The Love That Moves the Sun and the Other Stars
by TomiSama04
Summary: Prince Lucifer is destined to betray his duty, and the only person who has ever treated him kindly was his personal knight, Sam Winchester. [Medieval!AU][Samifer]


"**The Love That Moves the Sun and the Other Stars"**

Tomi Sama

Pairing: Samifer (SamxLucifer)  
-minor/implied: RaphaelxRachel, GabrielxKali, CastielxAnna and very small hinting at MichaelxDean if you want to read it that way  
Rating: Explicit  
Word Count: 28,505  
Beta and lifesaver: Bree (BowtiesAndDeductions)

This fic is for **spaggles-the-spagel **on tumblr. I sort of tried my hardest to incorporate all three of her prompts which were 1. Medieval!AU, 2. Stars, 3. Give it so much fluff and sugar that it'll make me want to roll around on the ground and never get back up. But anyone who knows me knows that I'm an angst writer and this was very hard for me. Oh well. I hope you like it anyway! =)

Title is from a quote by Dante Alighieri.

* * *

Prince Lucifer's first memory was of a sky lit with stars. If he closed his eyes, he could still feel the cool spring air biting at his face, the muscles of the mare rippling with power between his thighs, the feeling of her snow white pelt under his fingers, and his eldest brother's warm body pressed against his back. Michael's arms circled over the smaller boy's waist to hold the reigns and his brother at the same time.

The middle prince rested his head against his elder brother's chest, eyes drawn to the cracks in the trees that let the starlight peek through. He remembered wondering if each star had a name like each cluster did. He remembered wondering if he could ever know all their stories, ever join them in the sky, when Michael pressed his chin against his brother's head.

"We'll be hitting the clearing soon, and you'll be able to see our new home," when Lucifer didn't shift his position, Michael asked, "Are you tired, little prince?"

"No, brother," Lucifer tipped his head down and heard some shifting in the cart behind him where Raphael, Lucifer's other elder brother, was holding Castiel – just born two moons ago – and Gabriel who could not yet speak. Neither the baby nor the infant let out a cry when they left the safety of the woods and opened on the clearing.

The path carried on for another thirty feet before Paradiso sprang up from nothing. The entire capital was inside thick, stone walls. The buildings where the men inside lived were hidden behind the wall, but the castle jutted upward in the back – the gray stone looked black by night – and created a void where the stars should be. Michael's horse stopped, and from the cart, Lucifer heard Raphael enthusing Gabriel about their new home. Gabriel attempted the word of the city, but it even sounded foreign on Lucifer's lips.

Paradiso – the capital city in the center of the four realms – was now their home. Their father now sat on the throne as king. They were now princes.

Their father had not stopped from on top of his horse, neither had the great Knight of Winchester at his side. Michael shifted behind Lucifer, and the white mare took off again. The princes followed their king for a few moments in silence, trying to take the sight of the city by moonlight, when a sudden rumble grew behind them. Lucifer turned his head to see the approaching horse. He expected it to fly by them, but it slowed to a trot at their side.

The horse was black, and the boys on top of it were wearing black as well. The elder boy was eight, just like Michael, and the younger one was four, just like Lucifer. They were sitting in the same position on their horse as the princes – the elder in back, the younger in front – but their similarities stopped there. Michael and Lucifer were dressed as princes; the other boys were in dark leather armor with their family's sigil branded on their chest. The armor was not suitable for real combat, but would easily identify them as sons of the great Knight of Winchester.

"Hey, Mike," the elder brother said, but then made a sound and grinned, "I mean, _My Lord_."

Lucifer felt Michael grip him just a little bit tighter, "You never have to call me that, Dean."

"My Lord!" Sam repeated, bowing his head forward a little bit, in a polite gesture that looked awkward on a horse.

"Sam," Lucifer breathed back. "You don't have to call me that, either."

"So, my Lords," Dean continued, ignoring the prince's insisting formality was not a necessity. Regardless of their friendships before, the knight's sons knew that they were not equal anymore. "We were wondering if you would race us to the gates. Sammy said that you won't play with us anymore because you're princes now, but I told him…"

"We can't," Michael shifted again and Lucifer tried to look back at him. "My brothers are in the cart. Castiel is just a baby, and I don't trust Raphael to hold onto him if we hit a bump."

Dean looked over his shoulder at the other princes and even in the darkness he seemed to flush at the oversight. He opened his mouth to say something, but Michael beat him to it. "But, if you allow us to return to the castle and get some sleep, we would gladly beat you in a race tomorrow morning."

There were people in the streets, celebrating their arrival even in the dark of night. At the time, Lucifer hadn't known what it meant to have the four realms united under one king – it hadn't ever happened before in this land – he didn't know at that time what it had cost the people of all four realms.

And he had no idea of the price he was to pay for being the prince, not even when they rode their horse right into the throne room, and Michael climbed down from the horse and reached up to help the younger prince off. Then Michael went back to the cart behind them and took Castiel from Raphael's hands. Raphael picked up Gabriel, then the three elder princes walked toward the throne and kneeled before their father.

The rest of the crowd kneeled with them.

At this part of the memory, things started to get dark. The candles around the hall turned into sunbursts of light that burned bright, but did not shine over the floor. They casted shadows over the stone and over the people – four sets of people in four distinct attires – and even though all the realms were united under one king, something was biting in the air, a snap of the May cold.

"Arise, my sons," the king sounded wary and tired and old, and the princes stood half a second before the others did. Lucifer caught the edge of Michael's pants at his knee and held on. He turned his head to the side, trying to pick out friendly faces in the crowd. He found the great Knight of Winchester standing to the side of king: his feet shoulder width apart, his hands behind his back. The two young sons of Winchester mirrored their father's pose.

When Lucifer caught Sam's eye, the young boy offered a wide smile and jerked his head to the side – toward the king – and Lucifer took a sharp breath in, let go of Michael's pants, and returned his attention toward his father.

"This union was hard-fought and bitterly won. Even now, the demons in the western lands struggle to rebuild their armies, so they may rise again and attack our realms. This is why we band together – four realms united under one king – so our armies will never be small and weak compared to our savage enemies. From this day until the end of days, if any of the realms are attacked, all of the realms will rush to the battleground to defend their brothers." There was a cheer from the crowd, loud and long, but the elder princes did not cheer. They held their head's high and looked at their father. Lucifer tried to emulate, but there was something sinking in his chest, and the flames danced on the candles, flickering in a burst of wind.

"And to seal this union," the king opened his arms, looking around at the men and women of the four realms. "I swear my sons to you. Each of my sons will be representatives of your houses, promised for a union of their own. When they are of age, my sons will live in your houses, fight at your sides, marry your daughters, and wear your sigils from this day, for all days, forever more."

The applause was even louder this time, and Lucifer found Sam's eye again. He expected to be plucked from between his brothers and forced into a strange land when he only just arrived. Sam was shaking his head, trying to calm him down, but Lucifer clung to Michael once more.

"For my eldest son, Michael. You shall be the crown prince. When I die, it will be your duty to take over the kingdom in my absence. You shall marry anyone of the four realms for your queen. You will protect the realms and your brothers and the people whom you serve, until the end of your days," Michael nodded, and the king stood, lifting a chain from over his head. At the end of the chain, there was a little gold cross – the sigil of the capital, which was the center of the four realms and each realm extended outward in every direction – Michael bowed his head and the king gave him his new colors.

"For my newborn son, Castiel, you will find a place in the north among the realm of Milton. The stars command that this son of mine would use reason and logic to defeat a great problem. Would someone from the northern realm be willing to spare a token of their home for my son?"

A woman stepped forward. She had red hair and a swollen belly, stretching the cloth thin over the unborn child in her womb. She took a pin – a pair of white wings – and pinned it to the baby's shirt. Castiel slept through the whole thing, only stirring long enough to reach a tiny hand out to the woman and coo. Once Castiel had received his token, Michael stepped back, and Raphael stepped forward, placing Gabriel down in front of him.

"For my infant son, Gabriel, you will find a place in the east among the realm of Singer. The stars command that this son of mine will be gifted with an easy heart and good nature; however, when the time comes for him to prove his sacrifice in service, he will gladly forsake all for the good of his realm. Would someone of Singer be willing to spare a token if their home for my son?"

Lucifer knew this woman. She was Karen of Singer, the wife of the bravest knight in the realm. He stood near the knights of Winchester, and Lucifer had never known the knight to smile. When his wife stepped forward, removing a chain bracelet with an ox's head charm, the knight couldn't hold in his pride. Karen had to wrap the chain three times to fit Gabriel's infant wrist. As soon as it was in place, he raised his fist into the air, almost as if in triumph, and the tribes of Singer laughed and cheered with their little prince.

"For my son, Raphael, you will find a place in the south among the realm of Zachariah. The stars command that this son of mine will wield a variety of weapons expertly and will find no equal on the battlefield. Would someone of the south be willing to spare a token for my son?"

A blond girl stepped forward. She was about six years old, just like Raphael, and Lucifer knew her as the Lord of Zachariah's daughter. She held a brown, leather strap in her hands and as she approached, she opened her arms and worked the strap around the prince's waist. There were carving of lions on the leather, and in the front there was a gold lion's head that held the leather in place. There was another strap near the leather that could be used to tie a weapon's sheath to his side. By the time the girl turned to walk back to her father, her face was a bright red. Raphael took Gabriel's hand and pulled him back.

Lucifer spared one last look at Sam before taking a breath and stepping forward.

"For my middle son, Lucifer, you will find a place in the west among the realm of Winchester. The stars command that this son of mine will forsake his duty, disobey a direct order, but the realm and the entire nation of Paradiso will be stronger for it in the end. Would someone of Winchester be willing to spare a token for my son?"

The room was silent. Forsaken duties and disobeying orders were treasonous offenses. He could be hanged for those prophecies. Lucifer looked around, but the maidens and lords of Winchester looked skeptical and worried. Some were talking amongst themselves, trying to decipher the king's words. The young prince didn't realize he was shaking and staring at the crowd behind him, until he felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned back to the front, and Sam was smiling at him.

The son of the great Knight of Winchester – destined to be a great knight himself someday – bowed his head and pulled a medallion on a chain from around his neck. It had been a gift from his father, Lucifer knew, because he had been there when the man rode into town after the war with the demons and gave each of his sons one. The medallion was gold, a valuable thing, and had the outline of an eagle on it. Lucifer ducked his head, and Sam slipped the heirloom around his neck.

There was another brief moment when Lucifer and Sam were looking at each other, before the crowd made any movement or sound. Sam took the medallion in his hand, pushing his palm over the metal and into the prince's stomach. Even through the fancy cotton shirt, Lucifer could feel his friend's warm fingers pressing into his skin. He saw Sam mouth the oath that all the knights of Winchester recited to gain knighthood from their lords.

"May you never be far from my sight, so I can protect you, always."

Lucifer closed his fist around Sam's hand, still pressing around the medallion and his chest, and it was only then that the princes and the four realms and the king offered their applause for the young prince of Winchester.

* * *

Lucifer's eyes slid open, and he let out a soft breath. The blankets were thick over him, but despite the spring melting the snow outside the walls, it was still cold inside the stone castle. The prince stretched his limbs in the large bed, rolling over onto his back, making a sound of tired contentedness, and the man building the fire in his room let out a deep chuckle that came from low in his chest.

"You shouldn't laugh at your prince, Sam of Winchester," Lucifer teased, sleep still heavy in his voice.

Sam turned with a grin, his hair tumbling over his shoulders, and the boy stood. He was in a metal breastplate, which he wore over his usual leather attire. His sword was at his side, and even though the boys were both sixteen years old, the young knight towered over the prince by a few inches that seemed liked miles. Once, the prince had been sensitive about it, but when your knight is the tallest knight in the kingdom, you tend to feel pretty safe. Sam was the undisputed champion of archery, and there was only one knight in the capital who could still best him in swordplay.

"It is your brother's wedding day, my Lord," Sam approached his prince, arms drawn behind his back, clasping them together in a formal display. Lucifer groaned, heaved the blankets up over his head with a fluid movement, and rolled to the side, facing away from his wake-up call. He heard the other boy laugh at him again, and he couldn't help the smile that came onto his face at hearing the sound. There was a moment's hesitation before Lucifer felt the feathers of his bed shift, and he knew Sam had sat down. A hand gripped over his ankle, and he said, "You are required to be there."

"Is there any news from Winchester?" Lucifer asked from under the blankets. Sam's thumb pushed into the other boy's bone at the mention of his homeland before releasing his prince.

"None that I have heard, my Lord, but with your brother is leaving for Zachariah tonight, I would imagine that your bride will be chosen soon."

There was a stiff silence that overcame the room – one that Lucifer couldn't explain, but could always feel when the prince and his knight discussed the future – and Lucifer took in a deep breath.

Michael had yet to take a bride, but there had been very good – or at least strategic – reasons for him to remain a bachelor until he ascended the throne. His marriage, like all the princes' marriages, would be used for appeasement. The stars didn't offer much advice on future traitors (well, _most_ future traitors) and the king dare not ask Michael to marry until it was necessary.

There were rumors of a plan to pull Campbell – a tribe further west than Winchester – into the unified realms, and these rumors hinted that Michael's marriage to the leader of Campbell's granddaughter, Gwen, would be the only way for this to happen, as there were no more princes to give away to be hands to the king stretched across the realms.

Raphael had been destined to marry the girl who gave him his token since that day. Her name was Rachel, and she came to live in the capital a few years ago. Even though it was arranged, they seemed fond of each other. She was the only one who could tear him away from training in the arena or the strategy room with a map of all the known realms and tribes in the land.

Even Castiel – who was only twelve – knew who his bride would be. The pregnant redhead who gave him her pin had a daughter named Anna. They would talk in whispers in the library around thick tomes that Lucifer never had a desire to attempt.

It had been assumed that Gabriel would marry the daughter of the knight of Singer, but before their child could be born, Karen was overcome with the black-eye disease and died. But he still had a lot of time and plenty of the daughters in his realm would take him to be their husband. He was funny and charming, cute and playful. Everybody adored Gabriel.

Nobody wanted to pair their daughter up with Lucifer. His stars foretold a disturbing future. And never had Lucifer been more thankful for his bad fortune. He didn't want to marry a daughter of Winchester. Lucifer had yet to meet a daughter of anyone who he could bear the thought of falling asleep next to in the night and awaking with the next morning. There were only two people he could stand to be around for more than a few hours at a time.

And Michael said that Lucifer would grow to love his chosen bride, but Lucifer doubted it.

Sam let out a sigh and shifted, about to stand, but the prince rolled back toward his friend and sat up. The air was still cold despite the fire, and he felt the goose bumps erupt on his skin. The shifting caused the young knight to remain seated and look back at his friend, his eyes falling to his chest as a force of habit.

The princes always had to wear the emblem of their new realm. Lucifer had only removed the medallion from around his neck to bathe since it was given to him twelve years ago. Sam's eyes rose, slowly, back to his prince's face, a soft pinkness rising in his face.

"My Lord… we really need to…"

"Please, Sam," Lucifer reached out, his cold fingers brushing against the back of the knight's uncovered hand. The taller boy's eyes snapped down at the contact. "Please tell me a story."

It had been quite a while since Sam had been requested to stay with Lucifer as his personal knight, but the addition of a formal title and a slight increase in duties didn't really change much. They had been almost inseparable before – the only times they left each other's side was when Sam was studying under the knights in the armory, and Lucifer was studying the things his father thought that he would need to be Lord of Winchester someday – but upon making their friendship into a bond, the boys we required to stay together throughout those times as well.

Michael would tutor Lucifer in the arena, where Sam could keep an eye on him, even when in training.

Storytelling wasn't a formal requirement of Sam's sworn oath to protect Lucifer as the Prince of Winchester's Knight Guard, but a leftover remnant of the friendship they shared beforehand.

A smile slid onto the boy's face before he nodded at the bed. Lucifer grabbed the blankets and covered his chest as he wormed his way back down into the covers, always searching for more heat. The knight leaned over, making quick work of the laces of his shoes before he slid them off and climbed more fully onto the bed. He sat with his legs crossed, his knee touching Lucifer's thigh through layers of heavy blankets. The knight didn't move, but the prince found the boy's eyes and held his gaze for a moment. Sam didn't flinch, and when Lucifer opened his mouth, his throat was dry.

"Take off that armor."

Sam's fingers were searching for the buckles at his side to unlatch the breastplate. Lucifer tried to think of an explanation, think of how his tongue surpassed his mind to have that spill from his lips, think about why he would make that request at all, but Sam didn't wait. He didn't question the request, and after working the four buckles apart, he lifted the metal plate over his head and rested it against the floor with the same care that he handled his weapons, and he lowered himself to his stomach next to his friend.

The taller boy stretched out, exposing his back, but bending his legs at the knee, letting them rest at the ankle in the air. His arms folded over the pillow, his head rested on the leather covering his arms, and asked, "What story would you like to hear, my Lord?"

Lucifer had noticed it before – the way that his heart raced in his chest when he saw Sam watching him from the corner of his eye, the way his stomach twisted into knots when the young knight shed the leather and attacked his brother with a wooden training sword in just his cotton undershirt on hot days, the way the younger Winchester complied to nearly every request without question of whether or not this would be the moment of treason the stars forebode for him – because Lucifer would have been lame not to notice. Everyone treated him with caution. Everyone was wary of him. But not Sam. Never Sam.

"I…" Lucifer wanted to tug the blankets back and hold his friend to his chest, to hide from the people who hated and feared him with the only person who made him feel safe. "The garden. Tell me about the garden."

Sam sat up enough to prop his head in his hand and lean against his elbow, the curve of his spine evident under the tight leather, and he offered a lopsided, easy smile. The knight leaned closer and teased, "As you wish, my prince," before he started in on a story familiar to the both of them.

For the most part, first born sons grew up to take over the family business. John of Winchester was a knight, so Dean of Winchester would be a knight as well. Lucifer's father was king, and one day, Michael would be too. The second and third and fourth sons had a little bit more freedom to choose their own destiny. Usually they joined with the kingdom guard or fought for their realm's army. They became merchants or blacksmiths – they were free.

But neither Lucifer nor Sam were ever free.

"Long ago, there was a kingdom with five handsome princes. Most of the princes enjoyed their training and their studies, but the middle prince was always bored. When he was just six years old, the sandy-haired prince found his fun by tormenting the subjects who lived in the village but didn't work directly for the castle. This clever prince was not foolish enough to bite the hand that fed and clothed and washed him – he always brought his games to the subjects who worked outside his immediate vicinity. Once, after a particularly unfortunate prank involving the leaches he stole from the physician, a scarred donkey, and the cobbler's pregnant wife – the King had the entire incident recanted from the scribe's books, and thus, I am forbidden to discuss the details in the tale as well – the young prince was forbidden to leave the castle walls."

Lucifer smiled, rolling on his side to face his friend. It was true, but it hadn't really ever been that severe. Lucifer was terrified of other people hating him because of his prophecy, but being six and having people hate you anyway was excruciating. There was a two month period of rebellion – which did end at that incident that was recanted from the scribe's books – and from then on he had tried to be as perfect as possible.

"The young prince tried – he really truly did – but he wasn't as talented as his older brothers on the field, and he secretly despised his friend who trained his younger brothers because despite being a few months older, the future-knight would always best him in the arena."

"Wait," Lucifer cut in, admiring Sam's innocent smile despite his protest. "If I recall the story, the young knight didn't want to be a knight at all."

"Indeed, you are correct, my Lord," Sam lowered himself back to his arms, but after a second, he shifted again, rolling himself onto his side and drawing his arms lower. They were sharing a pillow, and Lucifer could feel the warm puffs of breath on his cheek. Sam's voice dropped to a murmur, and Lucifer's heart beat against his ribcage as if it were an eagle trying to burst from a trap. "The young knight's brother and father were knights. This young boy wanted to be an astrologer. He wanted to be the one who looked up into the stars and read the prophecies of the royalty – he wanted to see what was written in the stars that was so permanent – he wanted to know for himself, because he couldn't trust what the others said. He just couldn't because…"

Sam paused, his mouth still open. He closed his lips quickly, his tongue darted across to wet them, and there was pink rising on his flesh again. "I just mean that…"

"Now what about the garden?" Lucifer asked, letting out a breath.

"There was a garden behind the servant's quarters toward the back of the castle – just past the arena – and although the future-knight did not live in the servant's quarters, he often sat in the garden when the sun went down and watched the stars. He tried to talk to the astrologist as much as he could about their stories, but because he trained with swords and bows, the men of the sciences never took him seriously. Many believed that men could be warriors or healers, but never both. It was a night right after the little prince was banished from going past the castle walls that he found the future-knight in the garden…"

That night, Lucifer stomped around the wall as if he owned the garden, the quarters, and was next in line to own the whole kingdom but regretted it the second he saw the other form sitting in a dirty patch of earth, surrounded by flowers. One of the maids had planted the garden long ago, and she allowed the young prince to sit in the patch of dirt if he promised not to disturb the others. He spent some mornings watching her pull weeds and water them – she even let him help if he was careful – but he had never gone to the place at night. He never knew his spot was shared by another and even before Sam turned around, Lucifer knew who it was.

The prince was angry with the boy – he was sporting bruises along his ribs and shins from the wooden sword that was as deadly as steel in Sam's tiny hands – and he turned to slither away and hide, but he was spotted before he could leave. The younger boy didn't understand the animosity – it was his job to train the younger princes, after all – but when Sam moved over so they could share the spot of earth in the center of the ring of flowers, it was easy for Lucifer to forget hard feelings, too.

They didn't say anything. Sam kept his eyes on the heavens, and Lucifer raised his shirt to prod his bruises in the moonlight. After a few minutes, Lucifer returned his tunic back over his stomach and laid on his back. Sam's hips were a few inches from his side but despite the warm evening, the prince drew himself closer to the warrior, stealing the heat from him. It was only once their bodies touched that the younger boy looked down at the prince, a frown worrying his face, and asked, "Do you know about them?"

"About what?" Lucifer reached up a hand and tugged on the smaller boy's shoulder. If they were in the arena, the movement wouldn't have even registered to Sam. Out here, the boy gave in to his friend's wishes and laid down next to him, until their shoulders, arms, hips, and legs were flush against each other on one side.

With his other hand, Sam pointed to the sky. "Do you know about the sky? Dean told me once that every star had a name and groups of them were pictures that told stories. He said our mother used to tell him about them before she died, but he couldn't remember any to tell me."

"Sure, I do," Lucifer grinned. "But why do you care about them? It's not like they have anything good to say."

Sam let out a sigh that was too big for his body and shook his head. He looked upset, like it was incredibly important that he know these stories, and despite the fact that the boy had beat him with his wooden sword, he had always been Lucifer's friend.

"Who needs those dumb old stories, anyway?" Lucifer asked before pointing at a group of stars at random. "Do you see that? The three in a line then the ones that go up from that?" Sam didn't nod, but Lucifer went on anyway. "That's the center of Paradiso's cross. It goes down and to the left, too, see?"

Sam rolled his head to the side just slightly. Lucifer felt the warm body push closer to his head – like Sam was trying to rest his head on his shoulder – then heard a soft, "Oh, yeah. I see it."

"The cluster in the middle is the capital. Michael told me that each star is a location of the shops, but I don't know about that. To the left – over there, see? – that's Winchester," Lucifer lifted both of his arms and extended them toward the sky. He put his thumbs and pointer fingers together, creating a diamond and looking through it toward the sky. He rolled toward his friend slightly, offering his hands for the other boy to look through. "In that cluster, if you look around like… the four that look like a triangle, there's an eagle's beak. Each of the other realms have their emblem in their part of the sky."

The prince felt a jab of an elbow against his bicep, and he opened his eyes, he was drawn back to the bedroom in the castle with his knight lying next to him. Sam was grinning at him, wide and easy and full of teeth, and he let out a soft huff of laughter. "Do you remember what you said to me after that?"

Lucifer nodded, drawing his blankets back to expose his shoulders and arms to the cold. For a moment, his hands rested over the heavy blankets, twisting a frayed edge in between his fingers. He looked up at Sam, hand drifting over the other boy's elbow – the cotton was warm from where it rested against Sam's skin – and the taller boy's grin faltered for a moment as their eyes locked.

"I asked you if you wanted to hear the story of the eagle of Winchester."

Sam laughed, his eyes narrowed to slits in his jubilation, and his head was thrown back enough to expose the soft skin of his neck. Knights never relaxed like that – Lucifer had never once seen a knight let his guard down enough to laugh like that – and the prince tried to swallow around the lump in his throat.

"As if I don't know the story of the eagle –" Sam started, but he was cut off by the sound of knuckles on the heavy wooden door. There was hardly a breath – no pause at all – before the door pushed inward, revealing Michael in his fanciest crown prince clothes with his knight – Dean of Winchester – standing erect and proper behind him.

Lucifer turned around to face his brother, but Sam sat up quickly. Lucifer felt the bed rise slightly with the loss of the added weight, and the sound of metal from behind meant that Sam was scrambling back into his breastplate. Michael eyes rested for a moment on the knight – a look of downed eyebrows and confusion, given away to something lighter when he finally turned to look at his little brother – then, of course, turned to chastisement at the sight of his brother undressed and in bed.

"Raphael is getting married and leaving for Zachariah in an hour, brother," Michael said. "You should probably get up now."

Michael started walking down the hall, but Dean hung back to peek into the room. For Michael's curiosity, the older knight of Winchester had nothing but fury. Lucifer sat up, holding the knight's angry eyes, trying to display some dominance through his birthright, but the knight could kill him before he'd even be able to open his mouth. Nobody left bruises like Dean of Winchester, and Lucifer did fear him.

"Sammy," he hissed, dropping the formal act to gesture at the bed. "What the hell are you thinking?"

Sam shuffled behind the bed, and Lucifer knew he was trying to shove his feet back into his shoes. Then it grew quiet and he knew his friend was standing up to his full height – just about the same size as the older knight despite the four years difference – and Sam set his jaw and didn't speak.

"What good are you in bed?" Dean asked. "Without shoes – without armor – your job is to protect your prince… the prince of _our realm_, Sammy. Does that mean nothing to you? You can't just…"

Dean shot a look at the prince before he walked back into the hall. The knight shut the door and a heavy silence fell over the room. Lucifer was trying to decipher the look and the words, and Sam was trying desperately to lace his shoes with trembling fingers. Eventually, the heaviness dissipated – the awkward tension flew from the window in short breaths – and Lucifer sat up, baring his naked chest to the cold, holding Sam's gaze before the knight walked to the corner of the room, picked up Lucifer's nicest clothes and let them drop on the blankets. The knight stood with his feet shoulder-width apart and his arms clasped behind his back. It was the formal stance of a knight to his superior, and Lucifer frowned at the display.

"Would you like me to stay while you change, my Lord, or shall I wait outside?"

For some reason, the coldness – the formality – struck Lucifer in the heart like a lightning strike, and he felt something he couldn't name rise and spill from his mouth. "I don't care what you do."

In the end, Lucifer felt awkward changing in the empty room, with the door left just slightly ajar so Sam could make sure nothing was happening to his charge. The prince couldn't understand why he was so angry, and he certainly couldn't explain why storming from the room and stomping down the stairs in front of the knight made him feel more righteous than childish.

* * *

Lucifer had never been close to Raphael. His older brother was a fearsome warrior and clever tactician and the two of them had absolutely nothing in common. Raphael was insufferable at the best of times, but he was typically worse when Rachel was around. The usually stoic man his brother became melted into a gooey idiot around the blond girl, and his fury knew no bounds when someone – usually Lucifer – wandered into the stables to grab his horse and caught the two of them kissing in the hay. It wasn't like Lucifer stayed to watch – there were few things more disgusting than watching your brother run his calloused hands over a girl's bare breast while he attacked her face with his mouth – but the beating Lucifer got from the whole ordeal made him skittish of the stables, Raphael, and Rachel.

He hadn't expected to be lifted into a warm embrace by his brother shortly after the union was made official and the commemorative feast started. Raphael was laughing – completely uncharacteristically happy – and thick with wine already, but Rachel wasn't far behind him.

The new Lord of Zachariah moved down the line to manhandle Gabriel, and the new bride wrapped her arms over Lucifer's shoulders in her husband's stead. Her pale skin was burning from the wine, her cheeks flushed and her lips red, and she pressed her mouth against his cheek, her breasts and hips pressed against his in a way that would seem inappropriate if it had been any other woman embracing any other man. Lucifer just placed his hands at the small of her back, holding his new sister tight to his chest.

"Thank you, little eagle," her lips were pressed close to Lucifer's ear, her breath coming out in hot puffs against his cheek, "for never telling anyone about the stables."

Lucifer laughed, trying to shake her off, but she just held on tighter. "If I told, I wouldn't be alive right now."

He felt her body rumble with laughter. Over her shoulder, he saw Sam standing near Dean and Victor – Raphael's Knight Guard – with his arms crossed over his breastplate and his jaw set. Their eyes met for a brief moment before Sam's shoulders tensed and he looked away. Lucifer looked at his sister's shoulder and his fingers tightened against the back of her dress.

"Soon, you will have someone to be promised too, and it will be Gabriel catching you in the hay with her," Rachel finally drew back. She was still flushed, but she looked serious, smoothing her fingers over the material over his shoulders. For a split second, Lucifer saw pity flash over her eyes, but she masked it well with a grin. "Unless you've already been sneaking a girl into the stables…"

Lucifer huffed a short laugh – Gabriel had gotten caught with a maid's daughter in the arena and he was only fourteen – there had never once been a rumor with Lucifer because it had never happened. The very thought of it repulsed him. The prince was trying to come up with an excuse – or better yet a convincing lie – when Raphael called her name. Rachel's smile was wide and happy and she rushed to her husband's side. The pair of them looked wonderful dancing together, but Lucifer doubted that it would ever happen for him.

His wedding day would be awkward at best and somber if he was more realistic.

Lucifer let his gaze fall back on the knights in the corner, but this time, he couldn't capture Sam's gaze. Both of the knights of Winchester were focused on a girl standing in front of them. She was a pretty blond – the same age as Lucifer and Sam – and Dean had a hand resting in his hair, a giant smile on his face. She was talking to them with the easiness of old friends, her hand slipping into Sam's hand without a second thought.

Lucifer took his own glass of wine from the table and drank the whole goblet in a few quick gulps.

When he looked back, Lucifer wasn't sure if he really only spent a handful of seconds looking away. The pretty blond girl was still smiling, but it had fallen, and her head was moving back and forth between the brothers of Winchester with a growing level of anxiety. Dean was looking at his brother with a strange mix of concern and pity. Sam's eyes were wide and his frown just curled slightly at the corners of his lips like he was trying desperately not to show his emotions. His hand rested on the girl's shoulder, and he turned to face the prince. He started leading the girl over, and Lucifer heard Dean call out, "Sam" but he was ignored.

Lucifer knew his eyes were dancing over his knight's face, taking in the other boy's tells. His set shoulders, the sweat beading at his forehead, the glassy look in his eyes. Something was wrong. Lucifer held his breath when the pair of them stopped a foot away, Sam's hand on the girl's back, pushing her half a step closer. The girl was remarkably pretty – her hair was in curls, her eyes a deep, rich brown, her dress expensive and proper – but Lucifer's eyes left the girl and he looked at his knight for an explanation.

"My Lord, this is Joanna Beth of Harvelle… it's a smaller town in the realm of Winchester near where Dean and I grew up," he started, but Lucifer felt his eyebrows furrowing. He didn't understand what she had to do with anything. Suddenly, a warm hand gripped his, and when he looked, Joanna Beth of Harvelle was gripping his hand in both of hers. She offered him a small smile, and Lucifer knew. He knew what she was here for and he let out a breath, his other hand gripping the table beside him as his knees threatened to give out. Sam took a step closer, his strong fingers wrapping around the prince's bicep to keep him upright in case his legs betrayed him.

"Your father sent for me to come stay here with you for a while," she started, her fingers tracing over the bones in the prince's hands in gentle, calming motions like she was trying to sooth a spooked horse. "Then, in a year and a half, that will be us. We'll be getting married."

His eyes took the girl in again. She was pretty, she really was, but everything was wrong. Her hair wasn't the right color, her eyes were the wrong shade, she was too short, her dress… her chest… she… she…

They blamed it on the wine, so as not to offend the realm of Winchester and the town of Harvelle. Sam caught the prince when he fell and carried him to his room with quick apologies. And later, when Lucifer cried, Sam shed his boots and his breastplate again, sitting on the bed next to the boy, and held him to his chest, smoothing over his hair and whispering that Jo wasn't a bad girl – that she would make a great wife – but if that was true, Lucifer wasn't sure why Sam was crying, too.

* * *

In the end, Lucifer had to agree with Sam about Jo. She wasn't a bad girl. In fact, Lucifer's list of people he could stand for more than a couple of hours grew from two to three to include the girl. The first month or so, she hung back, sewing and cooking with the ladies while Dean teased her from afar. It was almost like the older knight of Winchester was courting the girl instead of the prince, but when Lucifer had asked, Sam made a face of complete disgust and said, "She's like our little sister," and that resolved that.

One day, sick of Dean's teasing, Jo joined Lucifer for a training session in the arena. She still had her sewing – she hadn't been very good at needlepoint at the start but she was better than Lucifer was now, anyway – and she sat in the shade in the armory, watching as Sam hit her soon-to-be-husband with a wooden stick while Dean cheered his brother on and occasionally did what he was supposed to do, which was correct the prince's stance and give him tips on how to improve. It seemed like an archaic mating ritual wherein the brothers of the betrothed beat the ever-loving life from the potential suitor to make sure he was worthy of the girl.

Lucifer slinked to the armory completely sure he failed their test.

It was a hot day in at the end of June, and Lucifer made quick work of the ties on his leather vest. Jo watched in fascination as the prince lifted up his cotton undershirt to examine the wounds to his ribs. One of them felt broken, and there was a black bruise forming over a yellow one that he had gotten last week. Jo hissed in sympathy pain, and Lucifer knew what was coming. Whenever Dean had hit Raphael hard enough to bruise, Rachel would kiss him to take his mind off it. The young prince braced himself, but the girl didn't move toward him.

Instead, she thrust her sewing into his arms and marched over to the laughing knights of Winchester. The armory was too far away to hear what she was saying, but Sam slumped a little bit, looking like a kicked puppy, and Jo poked Dean in the chest. After another couple of seconds, Jo yelled at Sam, and the boy hesitantly passed his wooden sword to the girl.

Jo was in a dress that ghosted over the sand. It was puffy and elegant and beautiful. Her hair was curled and pinned back. And after less than two minutes, she was standing over Dean of Winchester with the wooden sword to his throat.

Sam was beside himself with laughter, and the girl limped back to the armory – Dean had gotten a pretty decent blow to the outside of her thigh when he realized she was going to keep whacking him until he hit her back – and sat down next to her prince without a word. She opened her hand, and Lucifer handed her back the sewing.

Jo could do other great things too. She was almost as good at archery as Sam, and when she came with Lucifer and Sam to the map room so her future-husband could learn about the best tactics to defend Winchester, she impressed the crown prince by finding a flaw in his logic and quickly remedying the situation.

Jo was beautiful and smart, but despite the growing fondness Lucifer had for the girl, he didn't love her, at least not as a man should love his wife. And that became very apparent six months after Jo got to the capital, when she dragged her future-husband into the stables under the pretence of going for a ride. Sam was mysteriously absent, and Lucifer felt the loss like he was missing a limb. He tried to question the girl about it once they reached the horses, but she just grinned, grabbed his hands, and pulled him into the hay.

Lucifer was pulled on top of the girl with an undignified yelp. After a moment's hesitation, the girl spread her legs to accommodate her prince's hips, wrapped her arms around his neck, and kissed him. Lucifer knew his face would be scarlet – the heat drained from his body in embarrassment – but he knew this day would come. So he tried to kiss her back.

It became apparent after a few seconds that the prince had no idea what he was doing, and Jo excelled at helping her helpless boy. She rolled them in the hay so she was sitting over his lap, leaned over to push her kisses down to his mouth. Her hands found his and guided them to her back. It was a chilly day, the crops had been harvested but snow had yet to fall, and when she pulled his shirt from his pants and pressed her hand into his bare stomach, he could feel his cold body consuming her warmth.

She whispered praises and coached him through it with breathless pleas – "open your mouth a bit," "move your tongue against mine," "focus on the heat," – and after a long minutes, Lucifer let his arms trail over the girl's back, trying to steal her body heat, and he relaxed ever so slightly.

Her lips lifted some time ago, and her hand trailed from the prince's chest, over his stomach, and settled on his lap for a split second, before Lucifer was flailing and trying to push her off of him. She sat back, removed her hand, and the pair of them looked at each other for a moment, panting in the cool air.

"You're not hard," She said as if it were a question, like she wasn't already completely sure, and her hand dropped to his lap again. For a moment, he tried to catch his breath and wondered why he wasn't before he grabbed her wrist and tried to push it away. He was sixteen, after all. He knew what she was implying – how many times had he woken up from a dream he couldn't remember about a pair of lips on his neck and had the erection she was looking for now – but he couldn't explain the lack of it. He pulled at her arm, trying to get her away, embarrassed tears forming in his eyes, but she just frowned. "Do you not like me?"

"It's not that," Lucifer hissed, but he didn't know. He didn't know what it was, and she wasn't moving. "I haven't ever done this before. I… I must just be nervous."

"You've never been with a girl before?" Jo asked. Lucifer stopped fighting her, stopped trying to get her _off_ and _away_ and when he stopped struggling, the girl twisted her body so she was sitting in the hay next to him, instead of straddling his lap. The second he was free, the prince sat up, drew his knees to his chest, and looked away. "No," Jo's hand touched Lucifer's shoulder. "I mean… I haven't been with a guy before, either. I just thought that… Gabriel asked me if we ever came out here, and I just thought…"

Lucifer made a noise in the back of his throat, but still wouldn't look at the girl. Gabriel _would_ ask about that. The younger prince was only fourteen but just last week he had been caught with one of the maid's daughters in the armory. The people who worked in the castle were always talking about how Gabriel was seen kissing this girl or that girl. The girls, after all, loved Gabriel.

There had never been any rumors with Lucifer. He didn't have any interest in taking a girl.

"It isn't that I don't like you," Jo continued and despite looking away, Lucifer could tell she was frowning. "I do like you, but not... um… look, I guess I should be honest. I didn't ask to come here and marry you. But it's not you; I don't want to marry anyone."

At that, Lucifer turned to look at his future bride. She was wrapped in on herself too, and for the first time in their six months of daily contact, Jo looked sad. She was miles away from her home, sent here to marry a man who she didn't love, and Lucifer extended an arm and wrapped it around her shoulders. She leaned into him, but even this felt more comforting – more like something brothers and sisters would do – and it felt so much more natural than the kissing had.

"What do you want?" he asked.

"You'll laugh at me," Jo mumbled into his shoulder, but she didn't wait for his reassurance. "I want to be a knight. I want to fight for my realm and for the king. I don't want to just marry someone and pop out sons. I want to do something myself." She lifted her gaze and looked at him. "But duty comes before desire, my Lord. And I was called to marry you, so marry you I shall."

"If you don't want to, we don't have to do this again," Lucifer offered, but Jo's grin let him know that she knew he wasn't asking to sound chivalrous. He was asking for himself.

Despite the grin, Jo stood and reached her hands down. She pulled the man to his feet like she could lift a man twice his size, and they started walking back toward the castle. It wasn't long before they caught up with Sam – he was far enough away where he couldn't hear every little sound, but close enough where he could hear a scream and come running to save them – and the knight looked between the two of them with wide, sad eyes.

Jo waited until Sam was walking with them before saying, "you are a fine man to allow me to keep my purity until after our union." He heard Sam give a large, relieved exhale. Jo laughed. Lucifer just grinned, but the life of him, he couldn't figure out why.

* * *

Despite Lucifer and Jo's pact to keep it platonic until after they were married and the initial ease Lucifer felt over it, he was still curious about why his body betrayed its natural reaction to kissing a pretty girl. He didn't want to marry Jo – and she didn't want to marry him – but despite this, their duties required them to get married. If she wanted to consummate their marriage afterward (Rachel just found out she was pregnant and Lucifer figured that was just the natural course of things after a wedding), Lucifer was going to have to be able to perform.

But there wasn't exactly anyone he was willing to talk to about it, either. It felt awkward to go to Michael. If the rumors were true then Dean never had that problem when he was with a girl. So the obvious choice was Sam. He tried to ask his friend once when they were in Lucifer's room after a long day of training. They'd barely stepped into the room when Lucifer said, "Sam, I need to ask you something."

He responded with a very typical, "Anything, my Lord," as he worked on the straps of his leather shirt. Dean had hit him hard with wooden stick just half an hour ago, and Sam complained the whole way to the room about it feeling sticky. He tossed his leather vest on the floor before tugging the cotton tunic from his pants and lifting that up and over his head. Sam's eyes and hands went instantly to the wound on his ribs – which had split open just slightly – and he made quick work of assessing the damage and pressing the cotton shirt against the scrape to stop the bleeding. He looked up, offered a smile and asked, "Your question, my Lord?"

Lucifer's tongue darted out to wet his lips, his eyes unable to remove themselves from the knight's torso. It was certainly not the first time he had seen him without a shirt on – the boys of Winchester tended to be rough with each other and this was minor compared to other wounds – but it had been a long while. In that time, the boy had grown another few inches, the muscles in his arms and chest and stomach had grown hard and defined, and a small amount of hair was growing low on belly, mostly hidden by his pants. When Lucifer finally forced his eyes up to the knight's face, the boy had pink coloring his cheeks and he was biting his lower lip.

And Lucifer put his hands into his lap, trying to hide the fact that burning coolness was pooling low in his belly, the seeds of an erection threatening to bloom with no effort. It must have been a fluke with Jo; he really must have been nervous. His question hadn't exactly been answered, but it had morphed into a strange _why_ that he couldn't understand himself. He tilted his head to the side, and let a different question come out. "Would you like to borrow one of my shirts, since yours is ruined now?"

Sam let out a breath, a lop-sided smile grew on his face, and he nodded, helping himself to the pile of clothes and trying to find something that would fit him.

* * *

Months had passed and Lucifer decided not to worry about it. A time would come when he would have to, and while that time was rapidly approaching, Lucifer instead fell into a comfortable routine with Sam and Jo. They weren't always together, but they were enough to where people actually stopped talking about what the stars had said about the middle prince. The kingdom was looking forward to a wedding – a seemingly happy one, despite the odds – and it wasn't until there was only four months left that Lucifer grew nervous again.

Marriage meant a lot of changes – Lucifer would have to live in Winchester, he would have to share a bed with Jo – but he was glad of one thing: Sam would move to Winchester with them, as Victor had moved to Zachariah with Raphael.

The prince really did like spending time with Jo and Sam, but he enjoyed his time alone with his knight even more. With the addition of the girl, the time spent in just each other's company had dwindled down to mornings when Sam woke his prince, and nighttime when Sam bade his prince goodnight. With the wedding approaching, Sam and Lucifer were left to their own devices more frequently and they spent their time riding horses around the outskirts of the capital and sitting in the garden while Jo planned the details of the wedding with her hand maids and Michael.

Lucifer didn't want to marry Jo – he felt nauseous and dizzy every time he thought of it – but if Sam was always by his side, then he could do anything.

Or so he thought, until he awoke one morning covered in sweat and grasping the end of a dream of himself embraced by a figure he couldn't see, but he could feel the love radiating from himself and the other person. The prince sat up, threw the blankets off of him, and rushed to the window to try and take in some air. Sam turned from his usual spot at the fire, but he didn't approach him until the prince started crying, his fist connecting with the stone wall, his body shaking with tremors.

Sam didn't have his armor or shoes on, and he led the prince to the bed and sat across from him. Their legs were folded and their knees touched. It was an awkward, sitting hug that Sam pulled the prince into, but the knight cradled him in his arms like he did the night Jo first arrived. The knight's fingers ran over his scalp against the natural fall of his hair, his other arm was tight over the prince's bare shoulders, and he listened while Lucifer tried to explain his dream.

Seconds ticked by, and Lucifer fell silent, breathing a puff of hair against Sam's neck, calming tremendously in his friend's arms. The dream felt stupid when he was here like this, but he tried to voice the concern nonetheless.

"I don't love Jo like that, Sam," he breathed, and when he inhaled, he could smell the familiar scent of Sam, and it relaxed him. "And when I marry her, I won't be free to look. I just want to be loved. I just want to love someone with my whole being. And I don't love her like that."

The prince didn't realize his arms were wrapped around Sam's waist and tracing patterns on the small of his back through the shirt until Sam carefully wiggled himself away from the prince's grasp – his face pink and his pupils enlarged – and he nodded toward the bed.

"You still have a few hours to rest, if you'd like. I'll watch over you, my Lord."

The knight shifted away, trying to remove himself from the bed, but Lucifer reached toward him and rested his hand on Sam's knee. The boy froze, head turning slowly to face his prince, already nodding to the request that hadn't been asked yet.

"Rest with me."

Lucifer pulled back the blankets, and his heart hammered in his chest as his situated himself under the blankets and he watched the knight do the same. Something was different this time. He could see it in the way Sam shifted, the way that he looked over when he finally settled to make sure he was in an appropriate spot. His eyes were open and trusting, his hand sliding across the expanse of the bed between them to find Lucifer's hand. The prince had never felt his heart race so fast – he was sure he was going to die – but when his cold, clammy palm found Sam's scorching skin, it felt right despite his inexplicable heart rate.

"Tell me a story," Lucifer breathed, fingers folding together to lace between the knight's. "Tell me the story of how you came to be my Knight Guard. My knight."

"Yes, my Lord," Sam whispered. "It was already too hot out, but it was at least ten degrees cooler under the stone opening of the armory. The wooden doors were open to the arena and my prince was only eight years old and he sat on a wooden bench in the armory, looking out at his brothers training in the field. He was practicing his Latin with his eldest brother. His younger two brothers, Gabriel and Castiel, were in complete sets of battle armor. The metal and the heat slowed the boys down; they were sluggish in the placement of their feet, stepping unsurely as they faced each other and swinging the heavy wooden swords. I was trying to train them, but I was distracted. I am often distracted around my prince, you see, and right about that time, I noticed he abandoned his shady seat and was approaching me."

Lucifer took a sharp inhale of breath, fingers tightening around Sam's hand. He didn't make the decision to shift his body and scoot closer to his friend and his heat, but he couldn't help himself.

"His younger brothers left to join Michael in the armory for their lessons on the realms, and I saw that Dean and Prince Raphael were busy sparring. They wouldn't notice us. So I tossed my prince a sword, and we were just training lightly. I didn't want to hurt him, I don't ever want to bruise him, but I always knew he needed to be able to fight without me. What if I was sent off to fight a war? What if I died and he was alone? So I hit him a little too hard and he fell down. Dean said I needed to be tough, but when he cried out, I knew it wasn't from the sword or the fall. When I looked up, there were three of them – three black-eyed monsters – and they came charging into the arena. I yelled to Dean, I pushed my prince away, and I was ready to make a stand. I was ready to die to defend my prince.

"But then, Prince Michael grabbed my shoulders and yelled, 'Keep the little ones safe!' So I grabbed Gabriel's hand, Gabriel grabbed Castiel, and I ran with you all the way up the stairs. Do you remember? We put that chair in front of the door. Gabriel and Castiel were crying, and we held them together until they fell asleep. It seemed to go on forever, my Lord. I was sure the castle was going to fall. But then…"

"My dad came in," Lucifer continued. He didn't realize his knees were touching Sam's thighs until the boy shifted, drawing an arm around Lucifer's back, extending his other arm for the prince to use as a pillow. "He got us and brought us to the throne room. Everyone of us got a knight that day – Michael got Dean, Raphael got Victor, but you were the youngest knight assigned to a prince. You weren't even a knight then, but nobody complained. Nobody worried about my safety because I was going to be a traitor anyway."

Sam took in a sharp breath and for the first time his face melted from affection to anger. "Your father assigned me to you because he knew I would lay down my life for you. I would have done it then, and I will do it now. I will follow you anywhere you go, and you will never be far from my sight. I would do anything you asked. He assigned me to you because he knew that I was devoted to you. Nobody is more loyal to you than I."

They were curled together, Sam's hand possessive on the small of Lucifer's back. The room was quiet for a moment – a silent intensity that neither of them dared to disturb – before Lucifer reached a hand out. He was amazed. His heart was pounding again, and he felt something spread throughout his body that was pleasant and he couldn't quite name. His hand rest on Sam's cheek – the other boy needed to shave – and the prince smiled. It was mirrored instantly, without question.

"You would do anything for me?"

"Anything, my Lord," Sam vowed.

"Then I have two requests. I cannot marry Jo, Sam, I don't love her and she doesn't love me. I want to run away. I want to let her be free – and I want to be free too – will you come with me?"

"Yes, of course," Sam's hand reached to cover Lucifer's on the side of his face. "What is the other request, my Lord?"

"Call me by my first name," Lucifer said, pushing his chin toward his chest and moving closer, so his forehead pushed against the knight's chest and Sam's chin rested on the prince's head. "When we leave here, I won't be your prince and you won't be my knight. We'll be equals. We'll just be Sam and Lucifer."

Sam ducked his head, his nose pushing into Lucifer's hair and he said, "Anything you wish, Lucifer."

* * *

They would leave under the cover of darkness. That morning, Sam sent word through the castle that the prince was sick and the two remained in the room, discussing their departure. Lucifer noticed that the knight tacked his name onto the end of his sentences more than necessary – like he was still testing the word out in his mouth – and the prince couldn't help but smile every time he heard it pass his friend's lips. Later, they spent an hour distracting the cooks and stealing food from the kitchen. Then, in the afternoon, they slept in the bed with distance between them, completely convinced that this would be the last night either of them had a proper bed to sleep in.

As planned, they left at dark, but they didn't make it very far before they hit their first obstacle. They split their rations and loaded up their metal armor on their horses, but Impala – Dean's horse – was rearing herself up on her back legs and stomping them down like most horses did when there was a snake loose in the stables. Sam tried to calm her, but Charger – Sam's horse – reacted to her sister's desperation and started whinnying. Lucifer's horse reacted to Charger and soon, the stables were in an uproar.

Eventually, Sam gave up trying to calm Impala and instead finished packing Charger. She was difficult to mount, but once the boys and their horses road far enough away from the stables to where they couldn't hear the calamity, their horses calmed. They were temperamental as if they were silently judging the dissension, but Lucifer was sure he was projecting. The horses weren't really judging him, were they?

Sam led the way silently down the road from the capital toward Winchester. They figured nobody would look for the boys west – that was where they both belonged and nobody ran away from their duty to a place they that would be their home in just a few short months – and they planned enough food for the two week journey to Winchester where they could stop in the market and pick up more food. Then, they'd head west of Winchester – out toward Campbell among the tribes that were not part of the kingdom – and find a farm they could buy to support themselves.

Lucifer had the audacity to hope that after a few years of hardship, he'd be able to find happiness and love. He had woken up before they left with the dream of arms around him once again, and he longed for acceptance and trust and love like that. He wasn't sure what Sam wanted – what he hoped to gain by abandoning his family and helping the traitor prince escape – but his knight seemed content to lead his horse three or four paces ahead of Lucifer on the road west.

For hours, the boys didn't speak to each other. They rode in silence with Sam still just slightly ahead of Lucifer with his sword hanging at his side and both of them in just leather for protection against the chilly air and unlikely attacks. Their horses were just trotting – going hardly faster than the boys could walk – and Lucifer's stomach started growling hours before Charger slowed to a stop near an embankment. Sam gave the surrounding area a look around before turning back to face the prince. His face was harder than it had been before they left – the soft boyish features in his face already morphing into a trained warrior with their new surroundings and the potential for new threats – but he tried to offer a smile to the other boy.

"We should stop and eat and let the horses rest," Sam said, forcing a flash of teeth that resembled a smile as he swung his leg over Charger and led her down into the embankment. Lucifer followed his knight without a word, dismounting and leading his own horse into the forest until they could see the road but they were mostly covered from the view of the path unless someone took their time and actually looked. Sam took their dinner from Lucifer's horse's pack – Charger was used to carrying Sam, his armor, and rations – but the royal horse was more used to leisurely strolls through the courtyards. Lucifer tried to be useful, but his attempt at starting a fire was laughable. Not that Sam laughed at him. The knight was never cruel when the prince failed to compare.

Sam opened his palm and within half a minute a small fire was alive in the pit.

They ate quietly. Sam's eyes jumped from the fire to the road, but Lucifer ate his rations while looking up through the trees. He tried to guess how far they had traveled on the heaven's map, but he didn't excel at things like that. He didn't excel at planning and surviving and leading men into battle. He didn't have the skills that would be necessary to defend Winchester, to keep it safe – he couldn't even start a fire on his own – and he couldn't help but think that without Sam, he would never even be able to find his way west.

He would have ridden until he got hungry and turned around, giving up his chance at happiness for a life of misery, and worse, forcing Jo into a life of misery with him.

The prince spared a look at his friend, and his heart seemed to jump from his chest to his throat. Lucifer looked back at the stars.

He knew what the stars held for him. Lucifer had committed his father's words into memory the second he heard the prophecy: Lucifer will forsake his duty, disobey a direct order, but the realm and the entire nation of Paradiso will be stronger for it in the end. He was forsaking his duty by running away. He was becoming a traitor to the throne, but worse, he was making Sam do it too.

The brunet finished his food and stood, ready to stomp the fire and move on. If they were ever caught, Lucifer might be condemned to a life marriage with Jo; they would play it off like they hadn't tried to run away, and Lucifer would not be trusted by his family but he would remain unpunished. There was no telling what would happen to Sam. A knight who disobeyed his orders – a traitor to the crown – was always beheaded.

"We should get moving, Lucifer," Sam's focus was still on the fire. He smothered it with dirt and then stomped on the embers. "Impala is fast, and if one person can track us through the woods at night, it would be Dean."

Sam had nothing to gain from a farm in the backwoods among a tribe of uncivilized worshipers of pagan things. He had a future if he stayed – he would be head of Lucifer's army, the muscle of Winchester and with a status like that, the young knight could choose any woman to be his bride – so Sam had no reason to risk it. He had no reason to abandon that for this new, hard life Lucifer had gotten in his head less than a day ago.

They acted on a dream, on an impulse, and it was going to get Sam killed.

"You should go back," Lucifer whispered, pushing himself off the dirt to stand as tall as he could. Sam was slouching, a frown worrying his face, but he still towered over the prince. "I can make it on my own, and…"

It was amazing, the things Sam's face could do. When he was fighting, he was like a mountain – unmoving and unaffected – but now, in the cover of darkness, Lucifer saw him as the boy he was… as the boys they both were. His face melted, his bottom lip pushing forward in confusion and hurt, and his eyes seemed larger and wetter than they had just moments before. It was a look Lucifer hadn't seen in ten years.

Dean used to tell Sam he looked like a pup. Lucifer was tempted to go back just to tell Dean that the face seemed to have lasted throughout his childhood.

"You don't want… I thought you wanted to go… _with_ me?" Sam's eyebrows raised, and there was something there, something Lucifer couldn't see or understand in the darkness, about what the other boy was asking.

"Of course I want you to go with me," Lucifer hissed. "But if we are caught, you'll be in danger. I can't risk it. Not for… you don't even want to go anyway. You're only going out of misplaced loyalty. You think you have to go to keep me safe. You're only here because my father told you that you should never leave my side."

Sam expressed again, but this time it was more familiar. His features tightened: glares and nostril flares and Lucifer knew he was angry. But why would he be…

"Are you speaking to me as my prince or as my friend, Lucifer?" Sam demanded, harsh in a way he had never spoken to the prince before.

"Both," Lucifer held his ground, trying to mimic the rage back. "I told you to call me by my first name, but I'm still the prince and…"

"Then as you are my prince, and I am your knight, then I refuse to abandon my post and leave you," Sam took a step forward and pushed his finger hard into the leather covering Lucifer's chest. It was an inch above where the medallion rested under the cloth, and Sam had avoided it on purpose. "But as your friend, as the boy who planned this escape with you and suggested the farm with the pagans, then I say that you should not assume that I am only here because of _misplaced loyalties_ or because of anything I promised to your father. I want to go. I need to go. I wouldn't be here if I didn't want to be with you, Lucifer."

The finger didn't so much move from the spot on his chest as it shifted so that Sam's hand covered the medallion over the fabric. The knight pressed his palm against him for a moment, before he sighed and turned back to his horse.

"Dean knows that if we ever left together, the last place we would go would be west. So this will probably be the first place he looks," Sam mounted Charger effortlessly – the black mare looked at the prince with annoyance and pity (which Lucifer was sure he was imagining) – and started leading the way out of the embankment. He was out of sight before Lucifer was situated back on his own horse, but he caught up quickly enough.

Sam would never allow him to be out of his sight for long. But when he did give Lucifer a few moments of peace here and there over the years, it had always stung like a limb torn off. It always felt like punishment.

The knight's four pace lead and silence seemed to be a form of torture.

* * *

Lucifer was shivering. The sun was out, but it was past harvest and snow was falling lightly to the ground. They had stopped for sleep, leaving the path by a hundred yards to hide with their backs against some rocks. Despite the fact that the prince had put on his metal breastplate for more layers, he huddled against himself, trying to will away the tremors that were keeping him awake.

He was always cold unless he was in direct sunlight in the middle of summer, but Sam was routinely subjected to colder nights than this standing watch or training with the knights. When prospective knights are just squires – little lads who don't do more than carry around swords and help real knights into their armor – the leaders take them out for a trip in the woods when the snow has piled up. Only the ones who can withstand a variety of tests against the elements could achieve knighthood.

Sam wasn't complaining. Well, at least not about the cold.

"The snow isn't going to stick," the boy whined. "It isn't even cold enough for that. Your shaking is keeping me awake."

Lucifer ran through a list of the most insulting words he knew, but none of them seemed to accurately fit the situation and what he thought of Sam, who turned over and smiled like he was a cat lounging in the sun instead of a boy about to freeze to death.

As if he knew what the prince was thinking, Sam pushed himself up on his elbow, a short laugh breaking the stillness of the woods. Charger lifted her head from where she was resting. Lucifer swore a list of insults was running through her mind too.

"You aren't going to freeze to death," but the knight reached out, putting a warm hand over Lucifer's arm. The prince leaned into the touch immediately, scrambling forward to be closer to his friend now that he had been given some sort of comfort and permission. Sam sat up, fingers finding the straps at the side of the breastplate that held it together. When he started unfastening them, the prince tried to object.

"It will be even colder without that."

"When we were little – if the knights liked us – they let us in on a secret. Milton has snow much longer than the capital or Winchester does, and sometimes men would freeze to death during the night if they weren't prepared for the harsh winds. It was then that they started placing two knights on guard at a time. Do you know what?"

Lucifer frowned, but one side of his armor was already unlatched, "So if one died the other might still have a chance to watch for enemies?"

Sam laughed and started on the other side. "I think that was the intention, but after that, it was incredibly rare for the knights to die on watch. Either of them. Do you know why?" Lucifer shook his head so Sam continued. "When two bodies are close together they can share warmth. It doesn't take away from one, but it helps both."

Sam lifted the metal over the prince's head, setting it to the side before taking Lucifer's wrist and tugging him down so they were laying next to each other. After a few more seconds of situating and pulling, Lucifer's back was flush against Sam's chest. It felt like Lucifer's back had caught fire, even though the leather, and Sam's arm curled around Lucifer's stomach, hand pressing flat over the medallion.

Lucifer's eyes were wide – his heart was pounding against his ribs – and he didn't understand why. "The squires would lie together for warmth until the winter gave away to spring," Sam murmured, half asleep already. His breath was warm against the back of Lucifer's neck, and the prince forced his eyes shut, focusing on getting his heart back under control.

He couldn't say when he fell asleep, not exactly. But Lucifer didn't remember being awake much longer after Sam's breath became constant and relaxed with his sleep. In the late afternoon, when Lucifer awoke, the snow had stopped, but the prince was cold. He could feel the prince's chest still against his back, but his limbs were covered in raised flesh, a small amount of sweat had collected over his face, and when he placed a hand into his lap, his suspicions were confirmed.

Lucifer shut his eyes, willing it away before Sam woke up. He quickly became frustrated – how could all of Jo's kissing and rutting leave him unmoved, but a warm body pressed against him out of necessity get him so worked up – but he overcame his frustration when he breathed and focused on the danger.

Even in the past several months since Jo attacked him in the stables, Lucifer had awoken from the remnants of a dream sweating and hard, and the prince figured that he was at his most relaxed in the morning. He had all but forgotten the worry of consummating their marriage because of his own inadequacies, but had still spent many sleepless nights over the thought that the very idea of consummating his marriage to the pretty girl disgusted and terrified him. But it had been his duty – or it would have been if he didn't run away – and he was sure he wouldn't let her down again.

Despite that, his thoughts on the consummation alone willed his erection away, until Sam shifted in his sleep. It was just a stretch, a rise of arms and an opening of legs, but a small groan escaped his lips and when his arm returned to Lucifer, it curled just briefly at his hip, squeezing for just a moment, before Sam's hand was sprawled low over Lucifer's stomach. The knight stopped moving and drifted back to sleep.

Lucifer opened his eyes, his body tense and he knew he wouldn't be able to fall asleep again. Instead, he watched as the sun fell back over the rocks behind him and casted them into shadows.

* * *

Six days passed in a very similar fashion. They would ride at night with breaks for food and rest, but sleep for most of the day curled together. The with the exception of last night, Sam had pressed his chest to Lucifer's back without question or comment. Every morning he woke up sweating but chilled by his arousal, but every morning he managed to will it away before the knight saw.

But last night, Sam had turned his back on Lucifer at let the smaller boy wrap himself around Sam. He had enjoyed it, to be honest. It made him feel powerful – like he was the one protecting Sam for a change – until he woke up with his fingers clawing at Sam's thighs and his hips pushing forward to rut against his friend in small, sleepy movements. He had pulled away so quickly and violently that he woke Sam up.

The knight, bless his heart, thought it had been a nightmare. His hands on Lucifer's arms and shoulders did nothing to help the prince calm himself.

Tonight, Lucifer was going to put his back to Sam if he had to fight him for it. At least if he woke up frustrated for the seventh morning in a row, he wouldn't be in a position where he could take it out on Sam.

They were just about ready to lie down for the morning when they heard it. Well, actually, Charger heard it. One minute she was dropping to her knees for one of her hour-long horse naps, the next she was fixated at a point deeper in the woods. Sam became alert at once, hand on the hilt of his sword, and threw a look at Lucifer that needed no interpretation.

Someone was coming off the path toward them.

Luckily, their fire was out and the horses were silent. They were far enough away where they couldn't be seen, but close enough to be heard. They were certainly close. Another shared but silent look told Lucifer that Sam thought they were just on the other side of the jut in the rock wall where they had taken up camp in a cave.

"What are five of us really going to do to their whole army?" somebody, a woman, asked. Lucifer frowned, he had heard that voice before, but he couldn't place where.

"It isn't five of us. There are five of us here right now, but two days after we arrive, the rest will show up. And there are hundreds of them," that one was a man. He sounded familiar too, but… why couldn't he place it? He turned to Sam, wondering if it was a trick of his hearing, but Sam had already traced letters into the dirt.

_Campbell_.

Oh, right. It was Gwen of Campbell and her father Samuel the leader of Campbell.

"And the king won't think it strange that a hundred warriors with the black-eye sickness show up? Do you think that they will just let them in their gates after the last black-eyed attack? Michael has a knight of Winchester guarding him at all times, even when I try to drag him off to be alone. Dean of Winchester is always there, and I can't get a proposal from the crown prince if his lap dog doesn't stop growling at me," Gwen hissed.

"Exactly," Samuel said. "The prince has two days to make a move this time. If he asks you to marry him, then we don't need to break down the walls. We can just kill the king and the dog and wait until you can get a son out of the two of you, and when your husband gets sick, I will be the acting king of Paradiso until the kid is of age. We will control the five realms. We can take the rest of the surrounding tribes by force with Paradiso's army. And we will control all the land from the seas to the east to the mountains of the west. All of it."

One of the other men – a warrior of Campbell who protected Gwen – started speaking about things Gwen should do to ensure a proposal, but Lucifer tuned them out. He tuned everything out, his eyes rolling toward the sky. The stars were gone. It was mid-morning, a break for the rebels of Campbell. They would not be here long. They would leave soon. They would leave. They would leave. They would leave soon and start their way back toward the capital where Lucifer's family was there, lying in wait with no idea of the plot.

Lucifer looked down when he felt Sam's warm hand covering his own. Words couldn't be said, but there was a lot that Lucifer could understand from the knight's expression. _Calm down_. He didn't have to say. _We will be okay._ He didn't have to say.

_Oh God, they're going to attack our home and kill my brother._

Lucifer doubted Sam would say that even if they could talk. It was a weakness to show devotion in the knighthood. It was a liability. Knights tended to be orphans or men who would not take a wife. John of Winchester treated his sons with an appropriate level of respect – one of brotherhood required of the knights – but he hadn't treated them as sons in a long time. Dean and Sam should treat every knight like he was a brother, but it was obvious to everyone in the capital that the Knight Guards were close. They were friends. They trusted and worried about each other.

But Sam's jaw set, and Lucifer couldn't really read his expression.

The Campbells were around for an hour, discussing everything from the food they were eating to what they would do to each of the princes once they had the throne. Sam kept his hand in Lucifer's the entire time, fingers threaded together, avoiding each other's eyes. Lucifer took to looking in the sky once more, but Sam's focus remained on the dirt. With his free hand, he was pressing shapes into the earth – rearranging rocks and fallen twigs – but Lucifer knew better than to ask.

The prince spent his time searching the morning for the stars. The sky was dark – heavy snow clouds had blown in around them in the night, threatening to spill at any moment – but even without the overcast he wouldn't be able to see them in the daytime.

He was a traitor – he abandoned his post and ran away – and they would know that by now. One day would be a long picnic. Three days might be a hunt. But six days meant trouble. By the time they made it back to the capital it would be twelve, ten if they were lucky and if Sam knew a shortcut home around the Campbells.

They needed a story, a reason why they were out here that could save the kingdom. Michael would never believe they were this far out if they said they wanted to just ride to Winchester and see how things were going. It wasn't uncommon for the princes to visit their realms, but it was a grand affair. It was never a secret. It was also never a secret that Lucifer wasn't exactly looking forward to his wedding.

Lucifer had never been able to hide anything from Michael, after all. Michael would take one look at him and know that he had tried to run away. Why would Michael believe that they would abandon their escape to warn them of the Campbell's plan?

How could Lucifer keep Sam from being punished upon their return if he couldn't convince Michael to believe in a lie?

Eventually, the Campbells picked up and started on their journey again. Even after the sound of their horses fell to nothing and the wind and snow started picking up, the prince and his knight remained silent just in case. After a few long moments of silence, Sam stood, his hand letting go of Lucifer's, and drew his sword. In a second he was gone, but he returned a minute later feeding the tip of the arrow back into the sheath.

Lucifer swallowed around a lump in his throat that hadn't been there a second ago.

"They're gone," Sam said, crouching down before the lines he'd drawn in the dirt. "If there's an army coming up this path, we can't take this road. They'll recognize you when they spot you. We'll have to take the long way around to avoid them, but we should get to Winchester two days later. It's not optimal, but it's doable." Sam pointed out the path they were on in the dirt, he traced over the lines with a stick to highlight their new route, but Lucifer just looked at him, stunned.

"What?"

Sam frowned. He looked desperate, but unmovable. When he spoke, he sounded like was begging. "I can survive on less food than you. You might not even need to cut your rations at all to make the trip…"

"We can't go to Winchester," Lucifer said. His eyebrows were drawn in and his nose was wrinkled like he had tasted something unpleasant. "We can't go past Winchester to Campbell, Sam… they want to kill our brothers. They want to kill my father and take the throne. We can't… we have to go back. We have to warn them."

Sam looked down, his head angled away from Lucifer, and he sighed. His hands fell to his lap, palm up, and Lucifer didn't understand. He didn't know why Sam wouldn't suggest they run back instantly. He didn't understand why he would look so upset when Lucifer insisted they go back. What was Sam possibly getting out of running away?

Unless, he knew that they would be seen as traitors. Sam knew better than anyone the price a knight paid by deserting his post.

"We'll think of something," Lucifer inched forward on his hands and knees until he was sitting just in front of Sam. He reached out his hands, pressing his hands against Sam's knees, letting his palms slide halfway up Sam's thigh. A tremor raked through Sam's body, and Lucifer was sure the boy was holding back tears. "There's no way you'll be beheaded. We could say we were just seeing the country side. We could say that…"

"Michael won't believe you," Sam whispered, turning his head just slightly so he could look out of the corner of his eye and see his friend. "But I'm not worried about the consequences of my actions. I ran away with you, and I would do it again. I would do it a thousand times and suffer through deaths more painful than beheading. It's just… if we go back there, you'll have to marry Jo. And I…"

Lucifer's hands slid up Sam's thighs a little further, and the knight's head turned away again. He gave a strange noise like an injured cat and placed his hands over Lucifer's holding them still. "I won't let them kill you, Sam," Lucifer insisted, leaning forward. They were close, Lucifer's hips lifted from his feet to lean closer to the taller boy, his palms pressing down on Sam's thighs for leverage, and his face so close to Sam's that his eyes couldn't see everything at once. "We'll go back and tell them what the Campbells said and we'll stop our families from dying. I probably will have to marry Jo, but you won't be killed, Sam. You will come with us to Winchester and it will be like it was before. Like it's always been."

Sam leaned back, eyebrows furrowing. "Like it was before? I thought that we… I thought you wanted to be loved, Lucifer. I thought you wanted to _love_…" Sam stumbled, leaving off the rest of the sentence. His eyes were wide and confused and hurt and Lucifer didn't understand. "What about the farm? What about us and that farm, Lucifer?"

"I guess it wasn't written in our stars," Lucifer frowned too. He tried to lean closer, but if he did he would topple over and crash into Sam. "I would spend a thousand years unhappy to know you are alive," Lucifer squeezed his fingers, pushing them harder into Sam's thigh. "Maybe I can be happy with Jo. Maybe when I see her with a son of my own, playing with one of your sons. Maybe your wife would give birth…"

"My son? My wife?" Sam's voice was lower, angry. "You think I'll marry? You think that…"

"Of course you'll marry! Plenty of women would love to be with you."

Sam was silent for a moment, before his eyes narrowed. "When you said you wanted to be loved, you didn't mean… did you have a certain person in mind that you wanted to love?"

Lucifer frowned. "Of course not. I've never been out there. I've never met any of those girls."

Sam's hands tightened on Lucifer's for a split second, and his body jumped like he had been slapped. In an instant it was gone, his face was back to the trained stoicism of a warrior, one hand pushing at Lucifer's shoulder, the other at his arm. The knight stood as soon as he was free of the prince, his legs shaking unsteadily under him. Sam turned his back on Lucifer and shook his head.

"Okay, um…" Sam's fingers were running through his hair, gripping parts and tugging. "Wow."

"I don't understand," Lucifer's heart was thudding in his chest, tears stabbing at his eyes and he didn't know why. "You're mad at me. What did I do? How can I fix this?"

Sam slumped. His shoulders dropped, and his hand fell from his hair. A long, pained sigh fell from his lips and when he turned around, Lucifer could see that he hadn't kept the tears in. The knight looked so young, crying like that. He wiped his cheeks on the back of his hand quickly and shook his head, forcing a smile that made Lucifer's heart feel like it was ripping in half.

"No, I'm not mad at you. I'm mad at… myself. Just, give me a second to think." he closed his eyes, a stray tear running down his face. It was gone in an instant. "We can beat them back to the capital but we'll have to cut around the lake. It'll take a while, but if we ride all day and only sleep for short bursts, we should be able to get back there in time."

When Sam opened his eyes, he turned and started loading up his pack. He was on his horse, ready to ride before Lucifer had even stood up. From on top of Charger, Sam looked different. His back was straight again and he looked cold and determined the way he did when he was in front of the king. A soldier. A warrior. A knight.

But not a friend.

"I won't let them kill you," Lucifer said as he stood up.

"Let them. I don't care if I die a traitor," Sam was off before Lucifer could even mount his horse.

* * *

They stopped several hours later to sleep. Sam sat down, and Lucifer started walking toward him. The ride had been torturous – long with heavy silence on his already exhausted body – and the prince wanted nothing more than to have himself wrapped in his friend's warm arms.

But the knight sat with his back against the tree, knees drawn to his chest.

"I'll take the first watch," he said, even though they had never stood watch before, and Sam's eyes fell shut just after he said it. Lucifer struggled to fall asleep three feet away from Sam. And despite his shivering, the knight never once offered to share body heat on the five days it took to reach the capital.

When the pair of them road into the square, there were guards on both sides of them. Lucifer was exhausted and cold, he had a dull ache in his heart that had settled there since the night they heard of the Campbells' planned attack. Both the prince and the knight dismounted their horses, surrendering.

The guards couldn't exactly take the prince and force him anywhere, but when one made a move toward Sam, Dean pushed his way through the guards. For a moment, Lucifer thought Dean would draw his sword and fight with his brother, but Michael's Knight Guard took one look at Lucifer, then another at his brother's defeated, exhausted stance, and punched Sam. It was swift and heavy, a hit that would have dropped the knight to the floor if Dean didn't grab his arm and tug, keeping him upright.

With an arm around Sam's bicep, Dean started half-leading, half-dragging his brother inside the castle. Lucifer started following. Two steps later, Michael was reaching out and curling his arm through Lucifer's in the same way Raphael used to lead Rachel around. The crown prince was smiling, but as soon as they were in the privacy of the castle walls, the façade dropped. Dean was whispering frantically to Sam a few paces ahead of them, and Michael looked at his younger brother and warned, "You better have a damn good reason for your absence for Sam's sake."

"I don't," Lucifer whispered. "Please, Michael, don't kill him."

"Dean was worried sick about his brother. You owe him an apology. You owe him much more than that if we can't figure this out before father finds out you're back."

Lucifer's eldest brother Michael was a lot of things. He was an amazing tactician, a talented swordsman, a kind ruler, but most of all fair. Michael never took sides. He never let his own thoughts and feelings cloud his judgment. He was a good son, and he would do exactly as he was asked.

But as he practically tossed Lucifer into a chair in the library – right next to the chair that Dean had tossed Sam into – he stood tall and annoyed in a way that Lucifer hadn't seen since he was five years old (and Michael was nine) and Lucifer had eaten the last piece of their dessert when Michael had saved it for himself.

Michael looked pissed when his eyebrows jumped up his forehead and said, "So?"

Sam slumped in his chair, and Lucifer looked down.

"Your future _king_ just asked you a question, Sam," Dean took a step forward. "If you live that long to see that day."

"We saw the Campbells halfway between here and Winchester, Gwen and Samuel and three others. Are they here yet?" Lucifer asked, but he saw the look Michael gave Dean and had his answer. "Good. They said that they were giving you two days to ask Gwen to marry you. Otherwise they've got an army of black-eyed men who are going to break the walls of the castle and kill all of us and take over the throne. They want to control the realms and they don't care how they have to do it."

It was quiet for a long moment before Dean sat down in chair, dragging his hands over his face like he was trying to wash himself. "You were gone for almost two weeks and _that's_ what you came up with? Jesus Christ, why didn't you just stay wherever you were hiding?"

"Do you think we'd come back if it wasn't true?" Lucifer stood, pointing an angry finger at Dean. "Do you think I would come back here knowing what they would do to Sam if it wasn't true?"

Sam buried his head in his hands, mirroring Dean's pose, but a choked sob filled the room that Sam couldn't quite hold back.

"Dean," Michael whispered, reaching out a hand to place on his knight's shoulders. "He has to be telling the truth about Campbell."

"How can you possibly know that, Mike?" Dean asked, looking up at Michael.

Lucifer had seen the friendship between his older brother and the knight since they were very young, but he wouldn't have exactly labeled it as a friendship. They morphed instantly into their assigned roles – one was a crown prince, the other was a squire – but Lucifer had never seen their friendship as anything other than duty and necessity. He never saw Michael and Dean in the garden watching the stars, but just because Lucifer didn't see them, didn't mean their honest friendship wasn't there.

"Because if I ran away, I would never bring you back here unless it was important," Michael squeezed Dean's shoulder. "I'd never risk your life like that. And my brother would never risk the life of yours."

Dean nodded, turning from one that looked like he was accepting comfort to working through the information and developing a plan. "Okay, so…"

"I don't love Jo," Lucifer blurted out. "That's why I ran away. Sam was just going with me because he's my knight and he thought it was his duty to follow me so I wouldn't get hurt. The whole time he tried to talk me into coming back. I swear it. Please don't let father kill him, Michael."

Sam shifted in his seat, drawing his knees up to his chest and folding his arms over his head. Lucifer couldn't hear his sobs, but his whole body was shaking with them. When he looked away from his friend, his brother and Dean were staring at him. He knew Michael wouldn't by it – Michael could see through every little crack when it came to his brothers – but maybe…

"Would that get Jo into any trouble?" Dean whispered.

"How could it?" Michael responded. "It's Lucifer's problem, not Joanna Beth's. Sam, you need to stop crying," the crown prince walked over to the younger knight, putting his hands on the younger boy's shoulders. "You only went with him to keep him safe. You aren't a traitor. Lucifer was your post and you never abandoned him, do you understand?"

Sam lifted his head, "That's not why I went, and I won't lie about it. You might as well kill me. It'd be less cruel than sending me to Winchester to live with him and Jo. I can't… that would be… Let me die, my grace. Please."

"Oh, Sam," Michael breathed, before putting his hand on the back of the young knight's head and pulling him in so Sam's face was pressed against Michael's chest, and the prince's nose was pushed down into Sam's hair. The knight's fingers clung to the back of the prince's shirt while he cried, and behind them both, Dean made a hopeless sound.

* * *

It took almost no time for the king to get word that Lucifer and Sam returned. One minute, it seemed like Sam was crying hopelessly into Michael's chest, and the next minute, Lucifer and Sam were standing in the throne room, surrounded by their brothers and high ranking knights and members of the council, and John of Winchester. The king was on his throne, looking old and tired. Lucifer expected righteous fury, he really did.

But John was the one breathing fire. The king just looked exhausted and disappointed and somehow, that managed to hurt Lucifer worse than the fire and brimstone he expected.

Michael had explained everything – from story Lucifer provided about Sam's honor to the attack from Campbell – and the king took it all in with pain in his face. He looked betrayed, upset, and so very disappointed.

"You ran away?" The king pinched the bridge of his nose, hiding his face. "You deserted your duty and ran?"

"Yes, sir," Lucifer asked, standing with his arms behind his back. "Sam had nothing to do with it. He didn't plan any of it, and he didn't want to go. He tried to talk me into going back every day, but he thought it was his duty to follow me. He isn't a traitor."

"I am," Sam said, looking down. "I ran away. I abandoned my sworn oath. I deserve death."

"Stop," Lucifer hissed, grabbing Sam's arms. "Why are you doing that? It isn't true; father, I swear. Please. Father I _need_ him. You can't allow him to be beheaded. Please."

Sam angled his head away Lucifer, trying to shrug off their contact, but Lucifer wouldn't let him go.

"Father, if I may," Michael stepped forward once again, but Dean remained standing where he had been between the crown prince and Castiel. "We do not have much time before the Campbells arrive and that must be our primary concern. Sam is one of the capital's greatest knights, and perhaps it would be wise to settle this matter after the attack has been neutralized."

The king looked up, sad eyes on Lucifer as if he were the one being scolded. "Why did you want to leave, my son? Are you not happy here?"

"I don't love Jo," Lucifer looked at the ground. His future bride was standing with the other courtly women to the side and even though she already knew the words to be true, saying them aloud seemed harsh. He did love her, but not in the way a man should love his wife. He respected her. He admired her. But he did not want to spend the rest of his life waking up next to her. "I wanted to marry for love, not duty."

The king sighed, pushing the palms of his hands into his eyes. He was muttering to himself, but nobody except John of Winchester was close enough to hear him. Whatever he said caused the fuming knight to lighten his glare on the boys on trial just slightly, and Lucifer thought briefly of the stars and wished they could grant wishes. He begged them to let him know if this was a good sign. After a few moments, the king sighed and dropped his hands from his face.

"Lucifer, there are moments in life where we all have to do what we don't want to do. That's what duty is. Do you think I want to stand up here and punish your friend – the son of a friend? You are nearly an adult now, my son. If you have disagreements with your duty, you should contact your king so these matters can be discussed privately. Do you understand, son? You need to talk to me."

"Yes, sir."

"And Sam," the king stood up and took a step down from the platform where the throne was and approached the knight. Sam was taller than the king – Lucifer was taller than the king, to be honest – but despite the actual height, there was something about their posture that made it seem like the king was towering over the knight. The king placed his hands on the knight's shoulders and ducked his shoulders, forcing Sam to look him in the eye. "I need you to be very honest with me about your reasons for leaving the castle. It is very important that I know everything until I make my decision. And I'm sorry to do this, but the rules say that knights must be imprisoned until their sentencing." The king squeezed Sam's shoulder, offering a smile. "Stay strong, Knight Guard of Winchester. And do not lose hope. Many things seem impossible at seventeen, but the stars have always smiled on you."

The king took a step back before looking at his middle son. "Lucifer, do not go to the prison cells. Your knight needs some time alone, right now."

As quickly as the entire trial had commenced, it had ended. The king was gone – the people and knights were gone – and Dean grabbed Sam's arm and started leading him down toward the cells. Lucifer was rooted to the spot, even as Dean dragged Sam from his grip and the knights gave him one last look before they left the room. Lucifer could have been standing in the empty throne room for hours before he felt Michael's arm wrap around his shoulder, a warning of the hug the crown prince pulled his little brother into.

* * *

Lucifer had already forsaken his duties once, what was disobeying a direct order? It was incredibly uncommon for a prince to lurk around the prison cells since Raphael had moved to lord over Zachariah. Michael only dropped by from time to time when he needed information, and Lucifer hadn't been back since that time when he was ten and he accidentally locked himself in a cell for several hours.

He didn't know if the guards left the prisoners unattended as frequently now as they did then, but after the prince stole a slice of shepherd's pie from the kitchen, he made his way down the steps to find the post abandoned of any guards. Lucifer walked down the lines of cells – most of them were empty – but halfway down the row to the left, Sam was sitting on a stone bench that would be a poor excuse for a bed, even considering the pair of them had slept on the cold, hard ground for the past eleven days.

Sam looked up when he heard the footsteps stop at his cell, but looked away with a growl when he saw who it was.

"Your father told you to leave me alone."

"You want me to leave you alone," Lucifer's question was really more of a statement. The prince was confused – he seemed completely overcome with confusion and hurt since the Campbells made their plan known – and he was sick of it. Lucifer pushed the plate against the bars. "I brought you some food."

"I don't want it."

"Take the goddamn food already, Sam," the prince hissed. "And stop acting as if you're mad at me when you won't tell me what I've done wrong and how I can fix it. I get it, okay? I do. You wanted to start that damn farm for some reason, but you're not going to be punished if you play along, so what's the big deal? Why have you given up on fighting this? You've never stopped fighting in your whole life and I don't understand."

"The big deal is that I love you," Sam cried, standing up. He took a step toward the prince, the metal bars separating them. "I thought you wanted to run away _with me_. I thought you wanted to start the farm _with me_. I thought that you wanted to be loved _by me_, and I thought if we ran away, we could be together."

It was quiet for a long moment as Lucifer strained to hear anything from a single other prisoner. Either they were silent – listening into the quarrel between the prince and the knight – or there were no other prisoners. There were other jail cells, ones that were more like dungeons, and of course the king wouldn't place Sam in harm's way. Of course he would put the knight in an abandoned cell block.

The prince forced himself to think of the prisoners, so he could chase the thoughts spilling through his mind. The vague dreams he had of being held and loved zoomed out, leaving a clear shot of Lucifer laughing and happy in Sam's arms. Memories of the days they spent together as they were on the road: when Lucifer woke up to find himself rutting against Sam, had the knight pushed himself back into the shallow thrusts? The time he had no erection when Jo wanted him to have one, but couldn't stop them from coming when he saw Sam shirtless in front of him. The other Knight Guards didn't make their prince's fires – there were servants to do that, but Sam… Sam always made Lucifer's fire himself, so he could be there to wake the prince up in the morning and lie in bed with him and share stories.

Lucifer could see the desperation in Sam's eyes, but he couldn't stop from focusing on the curve of his lips and wondering if they, like everything else on Sam's body, were hot to the touch.

His dreams had always been about Sam. His happiness had always depended on his knight. The little boy who wasn't scared of a prophecy dooming him to treason and rebellion, but offered a token of Winchester to his friend. The nights watching the stars, telling stories about the realms in the darkness. The only positive thing about the prince's wedding would have been that Sam was coming with him to Winchester.

He was loved by Sam. He had always been loved by Sam.

There never was a girl in Winchester who Lucifer could learn to love. He already loved someone of Winchester. Lucifer had always loved Sam.

"Sam…"

"I don't want your pity," Sam crossed his arms in front of his chest. "And I cannot stand the thought of you with Jo. That night she took you to the stables, I threw up. I never wanted you to go to the stables with anyone but me, Lucifer. Please, don't save me. Don't put yourself in front of me while you're wrapped up in her. My heart can't take it."

"Sam, please," Lucifer lifted up the plate. "Please, my knight, take the food."

Lucifer could hear that something in his voice had changed with the revelation, and Sam picked up on it instantly. There was a breath of a pause before Sam's arms uncrossed and his expression eased into something… something beautiful.

The plate dropped from Lucifer's hands when the knight grabbed onto the prince's shoulders through the bars and tugged him forward. He could see the way Sam's face was moving toward him, and the racing of Lucifer's heart was explained. He was excited. He was in love.

And Sam was going to kiss him.

Perhaps their kiss should have been better thought out, because ultimately, it was less of a kiss than the prince smacking his forehead against one of the cell bars. He flinched away, hand to his head. Sam was rubbing his jaw, where he had hit it as well, and instead of another rushed attempt, the knight broke out in an easy smile, his hand tightening around the prince's bicep.

"I'm sorry," Lucifer whispered, hands gripping at the bars separating them. He leaned his face through the bars, cheekbones pressed up against them painfully. "I didn't even realize that… I would never have dreamed that this could be an option. I never thought that you could ever love me like that."

"I do," Sam whispered back, grin still plastered over his face. The knight brought a hand to Lucifer's chin, holding him still. There was a second of hesitation, before Sam leaned forward, pressing his lips gently to the prince's. It was a small thing, chaste, but it held the promise of so much more.

"Oh, my fucking God. You are literally kidding me, right?"

Lucifer didn't need to step away from the cage to recognize the Dean's voice, but he stepped back anyway. Sam's hand moved to rest over Lucifer's on the bar of the cage, and by the time the prince looked at the intruder, Dean was already gripping his arm and pulling him away from the prisoner.

"Hi, Dean," Sam grinned.

"Don't you _Hi, Dean_ me, you giant ignoramus," Dean hissed, sticking a hand through the bars to poke his brother in the chest. "You are like the king of awful, stupid ideas, you know that? How many times did I tell you to leave the prince a-fucking-lone? You are a knight. He is your charge. Your _promised_ charge. In no world will you ever be together. Not exclusively. I told you that before you ran off with him, and I'm telling you that kissing him is not going to help your case with his father. Jesus Christ, it's like I'm talking to a horse. No wait, Impala is _way_ smarter than you. It's like talking to Gabriel, Sammy. _Gabriel._"

Lucifer let go of the bar so he could wind his hand around Sam's instead. It didn't feel different from the other times their fingers were laced together. It felt the same – a flutter in his stomach, a coolness spreading over his body that told him he was blushing – but this time he knew what it meant.

For once, he understood.

"This'll all be okay, Sam," Lucifer said. "I don't care if we break you out and run away again. I can't be with anyone else. I love you."

Sam just smiled, but Dean started complaining about how stupid and girly and disgusting they were as he started dragging Lucifer away. When the older knight of Winchester won and Sam released his iron-clad grip on Lucifer's hand, the younger brother asked, "Where are you taking him?"

"His father wanted to talk to him and told me I should start looking here. He's going to be pissed he was right."

* * *

"Are you kidding me?" the king asked the second Dean walked in with Lucifer's arm clenched in his hand. He stood up, no longer dressed as a king in his long cotton robe. The thing was falling apart, old and warn, but it was one of the few things that reminded Lucifer that the king was his father. Lucifer barely remembered a time before the war, before the unification of the realms, when his father would hold him in his lap while he was wearing that very robe and whisper the promises of a better life. Lucifer was already joyous at the newly found understanding of his feelings for Sam, and he couldn't help himself but smile at his father, even as the man said, "You had _one order_, Lucifer. You had one order and you disobeyed it."

"I'm in love, father," Lucifer smiled, trying to shake his arm from Dean's grip. "Remember when you said we'd have a better life after the realms were united? I understand what you meant by that now, and I'm in love."

The king was silent for a brief moment before he nodded at the knight, "Thank you for finding him, Dean. Would you kindly grab your brother and bring him to me? Wait outside my chambers for me to get you."

"Anything, my grace," Dean replied and was gone.

Lucifer's heart started pounding differently than it had been – the love was still there but it turned erratic with fear – and watched as his father lowered himself into a chair. He looked as old as the robe did, and Lucifer took a step closer to the man.

"What do you want Sam for, father? You said you wouldn't sentence him until after the Campbell threat has been neutralized. You're not going to… are you going to…?"

Lucifer's father smiled, gesturing to the chair next to his. The prince obeyed without question, but he kept his eyes on his father the entire time, willing him to answer. Eventually, the man rolled his eyes and snorted, "It's a king's prerogative to change his mind, my son."

"What are you…"

"So, Lucifer," The king smiled, leaning forward toward his son. "You are in love?"

"Yes, father. I hadn't realized it at first – my body did, but my mind did not – but now that I have, I realize I cannot live without my love at my side. Father, I know it is not conventional, and I know I have a duty to marry Jo, but –"

"That is right," the king placed his hands together, steepling them under his chin. "So since you are now in love, and I assume the recipient is not Joanna Beth, what would you have her do? She was promised to you. For you to go back on your deal now would cause great dishonor on her, especially because you are a prince and she would have been married to a Lord. There aren't honors higher than that for women. What say you?"

"I don't want to cause her dishonor," Lucifer looked into his lap. "Jo is one of my closest friends, father. She didn't want to marry me, anyway. If… If I went back on my deal to marry her, I would offer her compensation. She wants to be a Knight Guard. It isn't traditional for a woman to be head of a realm's army, but she is very good. The honor of that position is greater than the dishonor of my broken promise."

The king nodded, a smile still playing on his lips. "And what of your new love? You were given to the realm of Winchester, don't you remember? You intend to bring an outsider back to Winchester to pass as your bride? Will the people respect you for that?"

Lucifer frowned for a moment, before looking up at his father again. The man had wrinkles at his eyes from the smile, and Lucifer knew instantly that the king was leading him in a specific direction with his questions. Instead of dancing around any longer, Lucifer took in a deep inhale and asked the question he wanted to ask.

"Would you allow me to marry Sam of Winchester instead of Jo? He isn't a daughter of the realm, but a son. He is of them. Even if it isn't typical… father, please."

The king sat back in his chair, crossing his ankle over his knee, grinning, "Son, do you know why men marry woman?"

"To procreate," Lucifer blushed.

"It is especially important for royalty to produce biological heirs. I wonder what the likelihood of your son becoming the king of Paradiso is."

"Um," Lucifer thought, "Michael would have to die before he fathered any children, and so would Raphael, and that looks highly unlikely as Rachel is due soon. That is assuming I have a son because a woman has never sat at the head of any of kingdoms in this land without a husband or a son. There's no telling that if I procreated that a son would be born. The odds are very low that my children would inherent the throne. Not to mention I could always step aside. Castiel would make a better king than I would, if Gabriel would step aside as well."

"Indeed. Your sons might not be kings. But Lords often pass their titles down from generation as well."

"Lords choose heirs all the time in other kingdoms. If they are sonless or their sons have died or even if they don't think their sons could handle the pressure. Michael told me that Lords are free to choose their successor, it just happens to be their own children most of the time," Lucifer responded.

"Oh, Michael did, did he?" The king grinned. "Sam should be at the door now. Go let him in."

Lucifer was still filled with unease as he stood and walked to the door, but upon pulling the heavy wood toward him, he was enveloped in Sam's warm arms. Lucifer staggered against his friend's weight, nearly tumbling over backwards. Sam was like a rock, though, and Lucifer clung to him. The prince buried his face in the knight's hair, feeling one of Sam's hands hold the back of his head and the other press between his shoulder blades. The leather under Lucifer's fingers at Sam's hip felt warm despite the fact the knight had just been in the cold dungeon.

It took a long moment for Lucifer to hear over the rushing of his blood in his own ears, so he could feel Sam's voice before he made sense of it. Sam lips and nose were pressed into the top of Lucifer's head, murmuring lovely little things into his hair. Beautiful, warm things like, "I never thought I'd be able to hold you like this," and "Never let you out of my sight again," and "God, Lucifer, I love you."

The only sound Lucifer managed was a broken cry that came from the back of his throat as he held Sam's body flush against his own.

Dean was on them again – or more accurately between them – pushing at Lucifer with one arm and keeping his other arm bent and holding Sam back. It didn't exactly get them to let go of each other, but when Dean yelled, "Jesus Christ, Sam. You are molesting the king's son in the king's bedroom. He sleeps in here, you know? Get the fuck off him before he chops your balls off instead of your head."

It was Lucifer, not Sam, who responded to the threat and stepped back. There was another awkward moment where the knights and prince glared at one another, before all three of them turned their heads to face the sound of their king rising from his chair. The grin he had been wearing was gone; instead, it was replaced by a look a little too intimidating to be completely neutral. He walked toward the three of them, Lucifer standing a foot away from where Dean still had his forearm pressed up against Sam's chest, and for a moment, the elder Knight of Winchester's posture changed. He wasn't holding Sam back as much as he was putting himself between his brother and his king, a shaky breath releasing and the thought of what his stance implied.

"Stand down, Dean," the king said, waving his arm in a dismissive half-gesture. Dean took a sharp breath in, raising himself up as tall as he could, before biting his lip and stepping aside. He was certainly close enough where he could intercept a dagger if he needed to; his eyes remained glued to the king as he approached Sam.

Despite the fact that the king was several inches shorter than Sam, wearing a robe that made him look like a beggar, and his hair was unkempt and his face was unshaven, he managed to make the seasoned knight swallow his fear and shift himself into a formal stance. Although Sam was physically looking down to meet the king's gaze, it appeared the other way around. Sam was less than a knight before his king. He was a child – not much more than a squire – being asked to defend the prince to his death once again.

"Why did you leave with my son?"

"Because I love him, your grace," Sam's fingers wound themselves together behind his back. "I knew he had duties – to marry Jo and to become the Lord of Winchester – but I was selfish and I wanted him for myself."

"So you lured your prince away from his duty in an attempt to seduce him?" The king asked, raising an eyebrow.

Sam flushed, "It… it was more romantic in my head, my grace. I wanted him to know love. I wanted him to be able to live a happy existence. He has always done what you asked of him. We both have. I just wanted him to have something more than his duty. He is more than his prophecy, but I don't think he has ever felt like it."

"You were a very young boy when Lucifer received his prophecy. You'd just turned four. Do you even remember what it was?" The king reached out toward his son, looping his finger around the chain at the side of the prince's neck. He drew the eagle medallion of Winchester out, holding it in his hand. "The prophecy terrified the others of your realm, but not you. Do you remember what was said before you gave my son this token?"

"His stars said that he would forsake his duty and disobey a direct order."

"But?"

Sam frowned, "But what, my grace?"

"But the nation would be stronger because of it," The king ran his finger over the emblem of the eagle before he placed it back at his son's chest, over his shirt. He turned back toward Sam, a small, fond smile playing on his face once again. "My son had forsaken his duty to run away with you, but came back to warn us of treachery. He disobeyed an order to go visit you in prison, but came out of that with something exceedingly rare our times among royalty. Not all of my sons will marry somebody they love, and not all of the realms will be as protected as Winchester, not with someone as skilled as Joanna Beth as the Knight Guard of the realm and a former Knight Guard as the Lord's husband. After we deal with this little Campbell threat, no western tribe would dare attack the kingdom."

It was silent for a long moment, but Dean was the first to speak. _"What?"_

"Are you serious, father?" Lucifer asked, wanting to reach out and grip something to make sure this was real and not a dream, but he couldn't decide who he should reach toward. "You'll allow me to marry Sam?"

"My grace, that's… highly illogical," Sam's hands were no longer clenched behind his back, but shaking in front of him. Lucifer reached out and took his hand. "What about sons and heirs? What about…"

"My word is law," the king said, clasping Sam on the shoulder. "It's good to be the king." Sam and Lucifer looked at each other, fingers laced together in the space between them. They looked desperate for words, desperate for something to say that could express what they were feeling, their gratitude.

But at that moment, Michael walked in, knocking on the open door to signal his entrance. He looked back and forth between the shocked Dean, his grinning father, and the knight and prince's entwined hands, and offered a small, forced smile. "I'm sorry to interrupt this long time coming union, but Samuel and Gwen of Campbell have arrived with three foot soldiers. We sent Castiel to skip by them singing soldiers flinched and their eyes turned black when he said Christos. John has the knife, but if there are hundreds of them coming, we might need to yell the exorcism over the wall. What would you like us to do?"

"They are our guests, Michael," the king hissed. "You will show them the proper respect they deserve. Take them down toward the dungeon armory. There are Devil's Traps set up down there and they don't expect us coming. Then lock Samuel and Gwen in a cell. Honestly, son, this isn't your first rodeo. What are you going to do when I'm not here any longer?"

Michael just grinned, "You'll always be here to boss us around, father. Come along, Dean."

The elder knight of Winchester spared one last look at Sam before following his prince out of the room like a loyal soldier or a particularly brutal dog. The king sighed, a fond, warm thing, and said, "Perhaps someday my bloodline will be completely gone, if princes keep falling in love with Winchesters."

"My grace?" Sam asked, a horrified squeak in his voice, but the king just laughed.

"How about one more job, Sam, before you give up your official position to take up another?" The king asked, but Sam just flushed. The king grinned and patted Sam's shoulder once more. "Go grab Joanna Beth. As it will be your last assignment, it will be her first as your new Knight Guard. I hope she knows Latin. It may come in handy."

* * *

The boys waited for Jo in the armory. When they told her what happened, she threw her arms around Lucifer's neck, thanking him over and over again, and giggling and laughing like most girls do when they are asked to marry a boy, not broken up with and given a sword as compensation.

She said she needed to change, and Sam grinned as he said, "You're not a princess anymore. Knights don't get time to change." The girl just slammed the door in his face, and they agreed to meet in ten minutes at the armory.

Between the reactions to their mission that Lucifer's companions displayed, he was pretty sure he was the only one afraid. He hadn't ever seen real battle before. He had never gone with two other people to fight a hundred. He had only seen a black-eyed monster once – the attack that made Sam his personal knight all those years ago – and he hadn't exactly been keen on the idea of seeing them ever again.

He leaned back against the wall of the armory, breath coming on a little heavier as he leaned over, hips keeping him steady, as he placed his hands on his knees and tried to regain control of his breathing. The prince knew that Sam was taking mason jars full of the white spice and placing them into a burlap sack, but he heard the movement still as the knight saw the state of his prince.

"Hey," Sam's hand was suddenly on his hip, the other was pushing at the prince's shoulder, trying to get him to rest his back against the wall again. Lucifer complied, eyes wide and afraid as he looked up at his knight. The knight offered a smile, his fingers running lightly over Lucifer's shoulders, up his neck, tracing over his jaw, "I would never let anything happen to you. I would lay down my life to protect you, and so would Jo."

"I don't want that," Lucifer hissed. "I don't want any of us to be in danger."

"Don't worry," Sam was closer now, and both of his hands were suddenly at the back of Lucifer's thighs, lifting like the prince weighed nothing until the shorter boy was standing at his full height. It felt like Sam's hands were fire, so hot he could feel them through the leather, and for a moment, Lucifer wondered if he should have put metal armor on his lower half as well. But then Sam's hands were holding Lucifer's hips against the wall, the knight's hips pressing up against the prince's and Lucifer couldn't think of the battle anymore. "It isn't in our stars to die before our wedding."

Lucifer's hands acted on their own accord, tangling themselves in Sam's hair and tugging him toward him so their lips would touch. For a heartbeat, their lips just touched, but then Lucifer's arm hitched at the elbow, wrapping around Sam's shoulders and tugging him closer, the metal of their armor clinking together as their chests touched. Sam's lips parted slightly in a silent cry, and Lucifer's mouth followed. When Lucifer felt Sam's tongue against his own, it was so incredibly hot and different from Jo's he latched on and never wanted to let go.

He had no idea how long Sam pinned him against the armory's wall, until the knight tugged at Lucifer's hips, pulling him away from the wall long enough to trail a hand over Lucifer's backside, trying to lift and guide him again for better leverage. The prince groaned, and the knight parted far enough to ask, "Do we have time to go to the stables?"

Lucifer had goose-bumps from the chill of his arousal long before Sam made the suggestion, but the thought of the stables being something erotic instead of terrifying was enough to send another chill through his body. He pushed at Sam, trying to get him to move away and run with him to the stables, begging, "Yes, yes, go," but laughter from the entrance of the armory told them that they were too late.

Jo was standing with her hands on her hips, leather pants baggy on her even though Sam had outgrown them when he was fourteen. Between the pants, the boots, the armor, and the sword, Jo had transformed from a lady of the court into a knight. Even her hair was pulled back and braided. Her face was still feminine, and she was short, but with a helmet on, no man in any of the realms would be able to tell that the person kicking their ass was a woman.

"You look good, Jo," Lucifer offered, trying to untangle himself from Sam. The knight was having none of it, deciding instead to attack at the prince's neck. Jo laughed at the face Lucifer must have made when the kisses turned to nips.

"I still have the wrong parts for you, so don't get any ideas just because you can't see them that clearly," Jo grinned, but shifted on her feet. Sam's old armor was still too big – it was a boy's set of armor – but when they got back from the mission, Lucifer would get his new Knight Guard armor that fit her properly. "Sammy, you didn't even pack the salt? Seriously, you can claim his neck later. We've got a job to do."

It took another couple of seconds for Jo to get Sam off the prince (when she used physical force) and it didn't take long for them to fill the sack with salt and holy water. Lucifer chose a sword that he knew would be useless against the black-eyed monsters – he had seen one ripped mauled by a dog before and it barely slowed the thing down – and he watched as Sam poured some holy water into the quiver of arrows he and Jo were both holding.

Holy water would piss them off and slow them down. It might be enough to make a few of monsters to turn into black smoke and escape the host, but this was a job big enough for an army, not just three people.

Once the knights had their quivers and bows set – their swords were already ready – Sam lifted the sack of salt and holy water and the trio made their way to the stables. As Lucifer mounted his horse, he couldn't help but look at the spot where Jo had pulled him into the hay and wished that he and Sam would be able to try it out when they got back.

The army was supposed to be two days out, but the trio only road three hours when Sam held up a hand and Jo and Lucifer stopped behind him. He quickly led the party into the trees at the left until they reached the wall of the cavern. This part of the path had been a river hundreds of years ago that had worn away a sharp incline. It wasn't impossible to climb – just sixteen feet straight up – but it wasn't exactly easy. Local children would climb it for fun, but there was nothing at the top but thick forest. It was usually more work than it was worth for adults to climb.

The trio dismounted their horses and Sam started in with the plan, "We passed them already. I could hear the guards whispering in the trees. I don't know how many of them there are, though. Jo, sneak through the woods until you can get a visual of a number." The new knight nodded, took two jars of salt, and was slipping toward the black-eyed monsters without a question. Sam turned his attention onto Lucifer. "Me and you are going to climb that rock over. You know the Latin, right? You're going to have to yell it really loud for them to hear you. I can yell it with you, but if they start shooting at us, I need to take them out and I can't shoot accurately when I'm screaming an exorcism."

"You've practiced that?" Lucifer asked.

Sam grinned, "You have no idea what extensive training our father taught us so we could always protect the realm from the black-eyed monsters. I've known the exorcism since I was six."

They sat together in silence for a long moment, and Lucifer desperately searched for words he could say to Sam in case they didn't make it back. Despite the worry the prince felt in the pit of his stomach, he could feel that Sam was mostly collected and unworried. The knight was a personal Knight Guard, after all. On rare occasion he had been sent on duties with his brother, but they could never risk Dean and Sam being long for more than a day. Lucifer wasn't sure how many times his knight had seen actual battle.

He opened his mouth to say something when Jo popped back out of the heavily wooded areas. She had a smile on her face. "I drew a line of salt from here to the road. It's not really more than an inconvenience, but I didn't have enough salt to trap them in from all the sides. But when I got out to the road, I found some reinforcements. Michael and Dean and Castiel and Balthazar are finishing up blocking the demons in. Well, Dean, Castiel, and Bae are. Michael's blessing the river so the whole thing turns to holy water and the demons can't cross it."

"He can do that?" Sam asked.

"He's the eldest son of the divine king," Jo scoffed. "I wouldn't be surprised if Lucifer could do the same."

"I've never tried before," Lucifer said. "I… I'm not really a warrior. I always assumed I'd be a traitor."

A growl escaped Sam's throat and he opened his mouth to say something, but the eldest and youngest prince walked into the clearing with their personal guards. Balthazar was a just over a year older than Lucifer, a blond man with fair hair who lived so far North in Milton that it snowed almost all year long. He treated Castiel like a favorite brother – the knight had been an orphan before he squired – and when they were younger he would carry him on his shoulders everywhere they went. At thirteen, Castiel had grown a bit too heavy for that, but the young prince stuck close to his knight.

"Why didn't Gabriel come instead?" Lucifer demanded, standing up to Michael. "Don't you think this fight's a little too big for Castiel?"

Dean ducked his head to hide a smile. Balthazar looked personally offended at the idea that Castiel couldn't handle himself, but the youngest prince didn't share his knight's rage. "I'm better at the exorcism than Gabriel is. He has sloppy pronunciation."

"It's still dangerous out here," Lucifer frowned.

"You have two knights. The rest of us only have one," Michael pointed out. "You should be the safest of us all."

"Does Sam still count as a knight if they're fucking now?" Balthazar asked, his northern accent still strong despite the years he spent in the capital. Castiel, Michael, and Jo laughed, Lucifer and Sam flushed, and Dean started cursing.

"Lucifer, Jo, and I were going to climb the rock wall over there and exorcise them. Two of you can stand on this corner, and two of you on the other and we can say the exorcism together. That way we can make sure to get them all," Sam said, looking at Michael. He was, after all, the highest ranking officer. The crown prince just smiled and nodded.

"I'll never have to worry about defending Winchester," he added with a smile. Sam flushed. "You and Castiel stay at this corner," Michael said to Balthazar. "Dean and I will go to the far corner. Signal to us when you're ready." The prince turned, fingers catching the cotton hem of Dean's armor for a brief second before the pair of them walked away.

Castiel offered his remaining brother a smile, "It ends with _audi nos_ not _adios_."

Sam snorted, but Lucifer just said, "Dean said it was _adios_, not me."

"Dean is an idiot," Castiel said, somewhat fondly, and the two of them walked to their position on the main road.

Lucifer, Sam, and Jo started walking through the shallow stream. The rocks were at sixty degree angle, but the juts in the rock made it so there were plenty of places for them to place their feet. But their slippery, wet shoes didn't make it any easier. It didn't take them more than a few moments to climb the rock wall, then Jo signaled by holding up a small mirror and letting it glint in the sunlight. Sam nocked an arrow, but didn't draw. The black-eyed monsters had noticed the signal, but they didn't have to wait long for the other knights to respond with their own.

The black-eyed monsters didn't have many archers, and those they did have were near the road. When Lucifer started in with the Latin phrase, loudly and clearly, he noticed some of the monsters were rooted to the spot, coughing on black smoke. Others moved deeper into the forest, only to hear one of Lucifer's brothers. A few of the archers made it to the water, but they never got an arrow out of their quiver before Sam or Jo hit them in the throat or face with an arrow of their own.

By the time Lucifer finished reciting the Latin, most of the soldiers had coughed up the smoke and fallen in on themselves. The prince made a move to leave, but Jo grabbed his wrist, shaking her head. "Let Dean and Balthazar check the bodies for survivors. If there are any, they can be killed if they're still willing to attack us. They might just be innocent men overtaken by the black-eyed monsters."

It was a long few moments of silence. Lucifer reached his hand out, touching Sam's elbow. The men were no longer monsters, and if they stood up and ran, they could reach one of Lucifer's brothers. Michael might be protecting Castiel, but the idea of the princes and their knights being separated didn't set well for their safety. Lucifer guessed it was the same with Sam; after all, Dean was walking among the potentially dangerous men.

Eventually, Castiel was running to the water's edge, still on the side of the salt that wasn't littered with corpses, and yelled up, "John is here with more knights. They're taking the survivors. It's safe to come down."

With the arriving knights – seriously, why didn't all of them just come together and slaughter everyone? – they outnumbered the survivors. Most of them were injured, confused, and didn't want to fight. Only three men rose up arms against one of the knights. John took care of two of them, Dean the other, and by the time the trio reached the killing fields, the older knights urged them to go home. They were warriors – two knights and a prince who would defend the western land until their last breath – but they were still teenagers. They could be spared the carnage for today.

They were silent on their way back, too tired with the fleeting adrenaline to ride home too quickly. By the time they reached the castle walls, Jo took off toward her room. Sam followed Lucifer like he was still his knight and had to go wherever the prince went to protect him. It was like nothing had changed.

And when they stood in Lucifer's bedroom, discarding layers of metal and leather until both were stripped bare on their torsos and down to their thinnest cotton underclothes on their bottoms, they crawled into bed. It was like those nights they spent trying to run away, curled together for warmth against the falling snow. They fell asleep in a tangle of limbs; it was almost impossible to tell where one boy ended and the other began.

* * *

When Lucifer roused himself from sleep, he didn't open his eyes. He was chasing the end of a dream again, the one where he was waking up surrounded by a pair of warm arms and lips against the top of his head, murmuring loving little words in the darkness. Even as Lucifer woke up, parts of the dream remained.

He started taking stock of the limbs in his bed. Sam had one arm under the prince, and Lucifer had been using it as a pillow. That arm was bent at the elbow so Sam could get a hand on Lucifer's shoulder, effectively pinning him to the knight's chest. The prince's forehead was pressed against Sam's bare chest, but the skin felt like a furnace on Lucifer's cool skin. Sam's other hand was at the small of the prince's back, tracing warm patterns on the skin above the fabric of his sleeping clothes. Sam had his knee between Lucifer's and an ankle wrapped around his the prince's, like the knight had expected Lucifer to try to escape in the night and he was doing his damnedest to keep him in place.

"Go back to sleep," Sam groaned, his voice still heavy with sleep. Normally, Lucifer would give in willingly to the order. He might have fallen asleep again without Sam's prompting at all, but before he could stop himself, Lucifer slid his hand from the knight's hip down to his belly. He felt his friend tense more than he heard the small, intake of breath.

Lucifer remembered the day that Dean had hit Sam hard enough to bleed. The knight had removed his clothing, and Lucifer remembered the hard lines of muscle the warrior had. The prince tried to move back – Sam was reluctant to let him go, but eventually relented when Lucifer pressed his palm flat and slid it lower, fingers brushing through the hair over the top of his pants – and once freed, Lucifer looked down, admiring his friend's body once again. But this time he was allowed to do more than look.

The prince pushed himself up on his elbow, pressing his palm flat against Sam's hipbone. The knight's mouth was open slightly, his breath the only sound of the room besides the crackling of the fire until he rolled onto his back. Once Sam was settled, Lucifer sat on his knees on the side of Sam's hips, reaching his hands out to feel the muscles. His own stomach didn't look like that – didn't feel like that – and the prince was so enamored by the feeling of Sam's warm skin under his own, that he didn't notice the breathless, held-in sounds escaping his knight until Sam's hand was gripping at Lucifer's wrist and tugging, trying to pull the prince down on top of him.

Lucifer remembered what it was like when Jo was on top of him, whispering words of encouragement into his mouth, trying her very best to please him. To keep himself from hurting Sam, the prince moved one of his knees to the other side of Sam's hips, settling himself over the knight. Sam's mouth was already open, his eyes closed and his fingers were suddenly pressing hard at Lucifer's hips. Lucifer let his hand trail up Sam's chest before leaning over, running is tongue over Sam's bottom lip.

Sam groaned and lifted his head from the pillow, trying to capture Lucifer's lips with his own. The prince grinned and backed away, hands on Sam's shoulders to keep him down. For a split second, Lucifer enjoyed the dominance he seemed to have over the knight. Then Sam's eyes shot open, and Lucifer knew he had already lost their play battle.

Sam's right hand left Lucifer's hip in favor of sliding down his thigh until he reached his knee. In one movement, the knight pressed the knee with one hand and pushed the hip with his left hand, and before Lucifer could blink, he was on his back with his thighs spread and Sam's hips between them.

There was a moment of shock – a smaller moment of annoyance – before Sam rocked his hips forward, pressing his erection against the prince's, and said, "Don't tease me."

"Oh," was Lucifer's only verbal response. His hands traveled on their own accord, sliding under the waist of Sam's pants, fingers tightening on Sam's bare hips, trying to keep the boy to keep his hips moving against him. The knight complied, rutting a few more times against the prince before he leaned over and captured the Lucifer's lips.

Lucifer had no idea how much time they spent kissing – it felt like forever and a few, short moments at the same time – before the prince was pushing Sam's cotton pants over the curve of his ass, trying to find more leverage to grab onto. Instead, the knight stopped with his movements – Lucifer opened his eyes with a childish whine – but Sam just grinned at him and pushed the material down his thighs, and with a few short movements, he was sitting naked in front of the prince.

He had never seen another man's naked body before. At least, not like this. Sam was flushed pink over his neck and chest – it was spreading as he noticed that Lucifer was just staring at him – and for a moment, Sam tried to cover himself, like he was afraid he read the situation wrong and this wasn't what Lucifer wanted.

"No," the prince said, digging his heels into the bed and lifting his lip. He pushed his own pants over his hips, but couldn't remove them more than his thighs because of the boy sitting between his knees. Lucifer's display must have been encouraging, because after a moment's pause, the knight was moving himself again – out of the way this time – and tugging the prince's pants off before abandoning them on the floor and returning to his spot between Lucifer's knees.

It was almost slower than when they started, both of them naked and looking, and Lucifer wasn't exactly sure what to do. He hadn't been sure what he was supposed to do with a woman, let alone a man, and Sam seemed to be looking over Lucifer's body in a way that he wasn't sure either.

Or at least, he wasn't sure where to start.

Sam shifted closer, Lucifer's spread thighs resting over Sam's as he knelt before him, and ran his hand up the prince's chest. Lucifer knew he wasn't as impressive as the knight – princes were trained to defend themselves, not offensively fight – but the knight didn't seem to mind much. Instead, he leaned over, pressing a soft kiss on the side of Lucifer's neck, just over his pulse.

Lucifer tangled his hand into Sam's hair; his other hand gripped at the bed below him. It was slow – agonizingly slow – as the knight worked his way down the prince's body with his mouth. He would stop and pay special attention to certain parts of Lucifer's body – his collarbone, his nipples, his hipbone – and despite the fact that he had a feeling what they were building up to, what he really really hoped they were building up to, he couldn't silence the cry that spilled from his mouth when Sam finally took him in his mouth.

The prince's body couldn't decide between opening his thighs more to allow Sam easier access to anything he wanted or wrapping his legs around him to keep him from moving. In the end, Lucifer couldn't do more than tremble – he felt like he was shaking apart at the core – and gasp and whine and make a series of noises he should be ashamed of, but couldn't quite muster the concentration to care about.

If Sam's hands had been hot, his mouth was an inferno. He didn't take much at first, just held him still with a hand at the base and moved his lips over the head. Then he pushed forward a little bit, swirling his tongue over the underside before moving it up to the slit. The prince's body twitched in a spasm of muscle, fingers tightening in the knight's hair.

"Sam," the prince begged, but he wasn't sure what he was begging for.

But the knight, apparently, did.

Sam pulled his head back, enough to release the prince from his mouth. Before Lucifer could offer a displeased whine, the knight wrapped his palm around the head, sliding downward in one stroke. Behind his groans, Lucifer realized that Sam was moving the saliva gathered at the head lower on the shaft, but once the knight's mouth returned and started moving with his hand, Lucifer didn't think about it and just _felt_ it.

Before long, the prince felt a coolness pooling low in his belly – he felt himself tense up and prepare for release – but Sam must have felt it too, because he was sitting up, removing his mouth and slowing his pulls with his hand.

"No," Lucifer said again, opening his eyes and tugging at Sam's hair. "Please, Sam."

"Hang on a minute," the knight grinned, before his hand left Lucifer as well. For a long second, Lucifer felt abandoned – brought to the edge but then denied – and he pushed himself up on his elbows, trying to gain some leverage to express his annoyance. But something in Sam's face changed – an open mouth gasp, his blush crawling up his neck to pain his cheeks – and when Lucifer looked down, he saw that Sam was wrapping the hand that was slicked with his own saliva around himself.

"Let me," Lucifer's eyes jumped back to Sam's face. "Please, Sam, let me."

"No, just…" Sam put his free hand down on the bed so he was hovering over the prince. He spread his knees a little bit to lower his hips closer to Lucifer's, and the prince couldn't take his eyes off Sam. He was beautiful like this, more so than usual, but he wanted to be the one who was causing this. He wanted to help, he wanted…

Lucifer's head dropped back into the pillows when a wave of pleasure hit him unexpectedly. Sam had wrapped his hand around both of them. His hand was moving around them both, but he was also giving small, shallow thrusts with his hips, and Lucifer felt the cold burn in his stomach returning.

His hands found Sam's hips again, but he couldn't get the leverage he wanted – couldn't get the knight to thrust harder against him – and he felt his hands pushing over the curve of Sam's ass once more, just as he had tried to do before the boy removed his pants. Sam didn't give into the pulls like Lucifer wanted him to, not at first, but the closer Lucifer got, the less aware he was of his extremities – of anything but the focal point of their pleasure – and when Sam cried out, Lucifer almost didn't hear him."Your nails!"

Lucifer tried to release his fingers from their grip on Sam's thigh, but Sam was picking up now, losing his rhythm between his hand working on both of them and his thrust and he asked, "Come with me," before pressing his lips back over Lucifer's.

The prince tried to thrust up into the hand. He was pretty well pinned under the taller boy, but his small attempts were enough. It felt like someone had dropped snow over him; he was suddenly cold in ever place that didn't have direct contact with Sam's heat. Tremors were raking through his body. He cried out, a surprisingly high noise against Sam's lips. The knight was murmuring against his, too, a chant of "Yes" and "Luce" and other words that didn't make a lot of sense.

When Lucifer exhaled, relaxing under Sam's heavy body, he felt the knight tense with his own orgasm. The prince's hands were on autopilot – a flat palm running over Sam's spine, fingers pushing Sam's hair out of his face so he could watch as the boy shuttered above him – and Lucifer felt another warm splash on his belly and chest, mixing together with the mess he'd made on himself moments earlier.

He tried to think of something to say, but when Sam flopped down on top of him, not caring about the stickiness between them, knight huffed out the only thing that needed to be said.

"I love you, Lucifer."

The knight shifted, keeping a leg and an arm thrown over the prince's body, his head resting on his shoulder. It took a long moment for his heart to settle to a normal pace – for his breathing to be controlled again – but once they were settled, Lucifer warm again in Sam's arms, he responded, "I love you, too, Sam."

"Good," the knight's voice was heavy and tired. He wrapped his fingers a little tighter around the prince's shoulder and mumbled, "now you can go back to sleep."

This time, Lucifer did as he was told.

* * *

Winchester wasn't a bad place to live. It wasn't too cold like it was up north in Milton, it wasn't too warm like it was down in Zachariah, and it wasn't near Gabriel in Singer. Seriously, Lucifer loved his little brother. But Gabriel was the only one who still made jokes about dumping Jo for Sam the Amazonian Princess and sometimes he was easier to love with a month long journey between them.

Not that Gabriel didn't send Lucifer a crow with a message every time he thought of a new joke. Which was more than daily. Luckily, Kali – Gabriel's wife and the adopted daughter Bobby of Singer (and his new wife Jodi), who they found abandoned by her tribe one day when they were checking their parameter – kept the Lord of Singer on a short leash. Or at least hid vast amounts of paper from him.

The Castle of Winchester was much smaller than the one in the capital, but it suit Lucifer fine. The people of the realm were welcoming, Jo's mother Ellen was so proud that Lucifer made her daughter his Knight Guard that she promised him and Sam Jo's firstborn son. But that was never going to happen. The rest of Winchester treated Sam like a he really was royalty – not just married to it – because John and the boys were folk heroes around these parts. They had been a crucial part in the unification. John had been a soldier before his wife Mary had died, but when the black-eyed monsters took her, it had been the catalyst to start union. To see Sam back, eighteen years later, a _Lord_ of Winchester, meant more to the people than if Lucifer had brought Jo back as his bride.

Nobody was cruel – as they expected them to be – about the untraditional house. And the lesser tribes further west didn't dare attack the house with two Lords and a lady Knight Guard. And Lucifer never corrected them. Sam was Lord of Winchester; the prince was a glorified gardener.

The first time Lucifer asked about the garden behind the castle, Sam had cried. It was Jo who ended up explaining that the garden had been Mary's. Lucifer spent his first spring in Winchester returning the plot of land from a wild mess of overgrown weeds into something that resembled Mary's Garden. That fall, Lucifer and Sam had sat together in the dirt in the garden, looking up at the stars and making up new fates for each other.

The first night they made love in the garden, Sam had smashed some marigolds on accident with his foot. Lucifer was livid and swore never again.

He had been lying.

They would leave Winchester for weddings and deaths, births of new nieces and nephews and on rare occasions to vacation on the water, but most of their time was spent reading in the library or sparring in the garden.

Which is where they were now.

"To the right, now," Sam easily deflected the blows from the wooden sword. Lucifer sat in front of the marigolds, hands dirty from where he had been tending the plants a few moments ago. He never would have thought anything could steal his attention from the devotion he felt toward Mary's garden, but somehow, Meg did.

"Daddy," Meg called, tossing a head of dark curls over her shoulder to look at Lucifer. In some world, with some perfect mother, the girl could actually be Sam's child. Her hair was just a bit darker, just a bit curlier, but she took after him almost violently. She would protect Lucifer no matter what the cost. Including that one time when Lucifer had been just a _little_ too loud and Meg burst into the room, tiny fists punching at Sam's foot."Watch me."

It wasn't often the five-year-old could get the jump on the seasoned knight, but she managed to this time by throwing a rock away from the garden. Sam looked away – he never would have let his guard down against a real competitor like that – and the girl went between his legs, hitting his knee with her wooded sword as she went. Sam over exaggerated the pain, hopping around on one foot until Meg was howling with laughter. Then Sam scooped her up in his arms and carried her to the garden.

They had been walking on the outskirts of Winchester, closer to the town of Harvelle, when they heard the girl crashing through the woods. She had been two, barely able to walk on her own, as she picked up rocks and threw them at the prince. She hissed, "You think sending us back to hell was enough? We will always take the realms from your family."

Sam held her still while Lucifer exorcised the demon from the girl's body, expecting a toddler's corpse to get out of his troubles. The girl had been bruised with minor scrapes on her legs and hands, but the Lords of Winchester carried the girl home, where she'd remained ever since.

Michael had not been pleased that Lucifer was intending to make his heir someone who had formally had the black-eyed sickness and a girl, but as far as Lucifer was concerned, the realm with two male Lords and a lady for their Knight Guard was allowed to have a female heir. Look at Jo. There wasn't anything Sam could do that she couldn't do just as well.

Well, besides arouse Lucifer.

The dusk sun was down over the horizon and it wouldn't be long before the stars would come out. Sam sat down next to his husband, placing their daughter on his lap. She, of course, would have no part of it. She crawled over to Lucifer and wrapped her arms around his neck, knees on his thighs, eyes glued to the sky.

Sam didn't take offence to it. Meg was a daddy's girl. Unless, of course, daddy was doing something boring. Which was pretty frequently. Instead, the former knight joined his family, tipping his head back to look up at the stars and asked, "Meg, do you know the story of the Eagle of Winchester?"

Meg's fingers tightened in Lucifer's cotton shirt, shaking her head. Lucifer leaned back on his hands and closed his eyes. Sam's soft voice was enthusiastic, and Meg laughed in the right places and asked questions when she didn't understand. There had been a time, once, a long time ago, when Lucifer thought that Winchester would be a cold and dark place. Where he would wake up every day, next a reminder that he wasn't happy or loved. Instead he awoke each morning in Sam's arms – occasionally with Jo making their fire and insisting that neither of the princesses of Winchester needed anymore beauty rest – and he wanted to kick himself for worrying about his prophecy all those years.

In the end, he had made the kingdom stronger. But it was only thanks to the only person in Winchester brave enough to step up and give a cursed child a token of acceptance and love. One of Lucifer's hands found the medallion around his neck and traced the eagle with his thumb. Sam paused for a moment in his story, and when Lucifer looked up, he was met with a single, chaste kiss and a smile.


End file.
